


Undertale AU Writing Prompts

by Izzy58



Series: Undertale AU Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universes, But that’s nothing new, Death, Dream is a sweetheart, Error is a cat person now I guess, Ink is kind of a dick, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Content, Multiverse, Sadness, Swearing, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 37,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzy58/pseuds/Izzy58
Summary: These are short stories about AUs using writing prompts I find on Tumblr. These stories can be sad or happy or whatever I want. Enjoy! Also, you should probably know that the tags are subject to change. So beware, I guess.
Relationships: Cream - Relationship, Dreammare, Errorink, drink - Relationship, nightmare x error
Series: Undertale AU Writing Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534553
Comments: 79
Kudos: 173





	1. A Long Walk Home

**Author's Note:**

> I found this prompt on Tumblr. The prompt is "Sometimes I forget that you can die. Sometimes I don't want to remember."

“Sometimes I forget that you can die. Sometimes I don’t want to remember.”

Those words echoed in Cross’ mind like someone shouting them in the dark, cavernous ravine of his mind. Nightmare didn’t sleep well last night - he never did - but Cross found him up and about early in the morning, while Error continued to sleep soundly in his bed.

Error.

Cross shook his head, trying to rid the name that jabbed at his soul and reopened a wound Cross had carefully concealed so as not to start bawling his eyes out.

At five in the morning, approximately a few hours before he would normally wake up, Cross had dragged himself out of bed upon hearing a noise in the kitchen, knowing it was Nightmare but still too paranoid to not check and make sure JR hadn't silently found them, like some sort of demonic angel in the night. He reached the bottom of the stairs and lo and behold there he stood, the short skeleton in all his glory, his purple cape flung carelessly over his shoulders and dark circles beneath his eyes, the smell of coffee drifting aimlessly through the dimly lit kitchen.

“Nightmare?”

“Morning, Cross,” the skeleton in question said without looking up from the faucet that poured water into the coffee pot sitting in the sink, his arms crossed and his eyes zoning in and out until he finally shut off the water and took the pot out of the sink.

Cross awkwardly sat at the kitchen table, letting the silence sink in as he watched Nightmare’s back who quietly ambled about the kitchen, brewing coffee, taking out a mug, then hesitantly grabbing one more before closing the cupboard with a muffled thud. Nightmare set the cups down and turned around, leaning on the counter and staring at the floor with a slight frown, his eyes drooping closed every so often before he jerked himself up again. A moment later, a quiet beep broke the silence and Nightmare sprung out of his stupor. He poured both skeletons a cup of coffee. He passed one mug to Cross and picked up his own mug, sitting down at the wooden table across from Cross.

Cross stared at Nightmare as his friend slowly sipped his coffee. “You look like hell,” he stated.

“I’ve seen hell. It’s nothing compared to this,” the other mumbled before taking another sip of coffee.

Cross glanced out the window near the table, seeing how the sun barely peeked over the horizon, a blue hue stretching over the black sky as the stars slowly began to disappear. He turned his head away from the window. “What’re you doing up so early in the morning? Did you not sleep last night?”

A disgruntled look from Nightmare told him everything he needed to know.

“Ah.” He picked at his fingernails, then wrapped his fingers around his steaming mug, not wanting to encroach on the topic, but unwilling to let his best friend suffer alone. “Same nightmare?” he asked instead, hesitant yet curious.

Nightmare paused before shaking his head. “No.” He set his coffee aside before folding his arms on the table and slouching even further, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t like the usual. Unfortunately, it was...worse.”

And then he said it. The two short sentences that continued to taunt and mock Cross ever since...

He sucked in a breath and bit his tongue. Hard.

It rattled Cross to hear such sad words come from a usually uptight person, especially when that person’s voice quivered and he had to look away before going back to his normal stone face. His heart sunk and he sipped some of his untouched coffee in an attempt to distract himself. The distraction mildly helped.

Nightmare quickly changed the topic, saying nothing more about his night, and Cross was thankful for that because he didn’t need to know any more about the nightmare. He didn’t want to know. Thinking about death sent shivers down his spine; of not knowing how or when it will happen, and being so close to death already what with him and his friends being labeled criminals by the entire Multiverse, the fear dawned on Cross in his darkest moments, like some sort of animal lurking in the shadows, circling him, waiting. Watching. Always watching.

Cross rubbed his arms and walked faster through the forest, hoodie pulled up and head down despite the lack of civilization or anyone in general who could recognize him, picking through his day and wondering how he got to where he was. How he could be so careless.

Unfortunately, the rest of his day contained nothing of interest. Hours after their little talk, Error stumbled down the stairs, groggy and grumpy as he usually was in the morning, his glasses crooked and his pajama pants sliding down his waist, covering his feet as he shuffled through the kitchen, greedily helping himself to a huge serving of coffee Nightmare made earlier that morning. Not too long after that, they played video games, Cross losing (obviously), sat around, not really do anything particularly exciting. The three of them were quiet, not saying anything to one another, simply relaxing and enjoying the peacefulness of their afternoon. Even Kevin seemed less talkative than he usually was, clucking to himself every now and then outside the living room window and pecking at the dirt in his coop. They couldn’t be more content with themselves. It was their version of a lazy Sunday.

Until Cross suggest they break into JR.

“Hell no,” Nightmare immediately responded, sprawled out on the couch and boredly staring at the show playing on the TV, the volume turned down to a whisper. “It’s my turn to clean the house and I’m not letting this shack go another day without a dusting.”

Cross raised his eyebrows at his friend who would normally jump at the opportunity to bug his brother relentlessly, but shrugged it off and turned expectantly towards Error, who sat cross-legged on his favorite rocking chair next to the couch, knitting. “Error?”

Error set his knitting needles and string aside, stretching his arms above his head with a grunt and, letting his arms fall to his lap, shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Now Cross could list a thousand reasons why that was a horrible idea. His mind lingered on the memory, his eyes trying desperately to memorize Error’s every feature. They way the blue lines on his cheeks curved gracefully from his eyes to the bottom of his jaw. His mismatched eyes, one white and the other orange with a white pinprick in the middle. His genuine smile. His red, round glasses. His nimble fingers as he cleverly wove his strings into something beautiful or as he furiously jammed the buttons on a video game controller, eager to win whatever game they were playing. The contrast of the colors on his fingers against his black, fingerless gloves. Even if he was the quietest among them, he was one of the strongest and best people Cross knew. Probably the cheeriest, most sincere, and kind-hearted person in his life.

He stepped out of the bramble on the forest floor, bending down slightly to brush any stray leaves away and assess the small scratches on the exposed bone of his legs, finally looking up at the house at the other end of the small clearing, practically engulfed by the forest. Yellow light flooded through the windows at the front of the house in the dim evening light. A breeze blew past Cross and he trembled, pulling his white jacket closer to him, though it didn’t help much. He sure hated the dropping temperature that came with autumn. Cross watched Nightmare’s silhouette from where he stood, presumably cooking dinner, and Cross backed away into the safety of the forest. He didn’t want to tell Nightmare, but he knew he had to. Who knew a few yards walk could feel like an ocean away?

Butterflies fluttered where his stomach would be and he fidgeted, anxiously racking his brain for something to say. Despite how Nightmare insists that he’s fine in the most heart-wrenching situations, Cross knows that he’s not okay. He definitely won’t be okay now. Not after hearing that his best friend, the person who stayed by his side no matter what, could be taken down as a gleaming sword thrust through his chest-

Cross shuddered and his body swayed back and forth, the world tilting to and fro until he stumbled back and hit a tree, bark scraping and cutting his jacket as he slid down the trunk, but he didn’t care. As soon as he walked through that battered front door, Nightmare would sense Cross’ intense feelings and he’d know - he’d know - that something was up. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He couldn’t sit in this forest forever and hope all his problems will go away. Cross sighed and abruptly stood up again, marching out of the forest and to the front porch, up the creaky steps that were always broken and bent, across the porch, to the door.

He could do this.

He lifted up a bony hand and rested it on the rusty doorknob.

He could do this. Nightmare had to know one way or another.

He clutched the doorknob and turned it.

The smell of soup greeted him as he stepped into the house, his gaze drifting about until it landed on Nightmare, who leaned over the table he had set with bowls and bread and everything.

A table for three.

“Hey Cross.” He glanced up and frowned after setting a pile of napkins in the middle of their small table. “Where’s Error?”

And then he couldn’t take it anymore.

Cross started crying.


	2. Obsessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is "I shouldn't be in love with you."

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

Dream pulled his face away from the black goo he curled into about an hour ago, the goo thankfully sliding off his clothes and retreating back to its owner. Dream peered up at Nightmare intently. The guardian of negativity opened his one good eye and frowned down at him, his cyan eye lazily rolling down and gazing into Dream’s own golden eyes.

“Hm?” Nightmare responded, his eye flicking over Dream’s soft features.

Dream suddenly sprang from his boyfriend’s side and off the velvet couch. Hands behind his back, brows furrowed deep in thought, he began pacing back and forth in front of the crackling fireplace that emitted the only light in the bedroom.

Over the past few months, the twins had grown closer to one another. Or, to be more specific, Nightmare had. Dream never found out why his brother had taken a sudden interest in him; he only knew that this turning point in their relationship had started small: little touches from Nightmare as he blabbered his usual monologue right before they battled; strange and almost gentle looks every so often during or after said battle; showing himself more frequently throughout the Multiverse with more destructive tactics to get his brother’s attention. Dream started noticing these signs of friendliness and took it upon himself to figure out what was going on.

However, as these interactions with Nightmare went on, Dream began forming certain feelings of his own, emotions other than anger and frustration towards his darker half. He started seeing his brother in a new light.

It escalated from there and what once was subtle gestures of affection soon became secret meetings where Dream would travel to Nightmare’s castle, his companions unaware, finding his lover waiting for him in the shadows of the entrance of the somber castle, a dark look on his face until he spotted Dream, a yellow speck amongst acres and acres of dead trees, black skies and the general aftermath of what happened to DreamTale. A small smile would then cross his face and he’d come out from hiding, keen on spending time with Dream.

Now Dream wasn’t so sure about his relationship with Nightmare. He never was positive if Nightmare actually loved him or not. But there has to be some love somewhere in that goopy creature, right? Otherwise, why would he invite Dream into his arms with such eagerness and positive feelings sprouting from his very being like weeds, feelings he hasn’t seen since before the apple incident.

That’s not the source of the problem though. It comes from Nightmare’s body language. Dream’s not stupid and Nightmare knows that. So of course he’s going to notice the slight shift of his eye when they’re talking, the way he stiffly holds Dream as if he doesn’t quite want to touch him, the way their “dates” keep getting more and more laid back, going from a fancy homemade dinner Nightmare cooked himself when his goons were gone and the castle was empty to cuddling while Nightmare reads. Dream wasn’t complaining though; cuddling was nice from time to time, but he ached to socialize and be his affable self, unlike his shut-in brother. Time and time again, Dream would sneak a peek at Nightmare, hoping that he would set his book down and hug him, kiss him, tease him, anything! Much to his disappointment, Nightmare would simply flip the page, his eye boredly focused on other things.

More important things.

Unfortunately, Dream was never much of a reader, so he naturally had no proclivity to read with Nightmare and had nothing to say to steer his brother’s attention away from the book.

Nightmare sat up, his undivided attention on Dream and his suddenly distressed feelings. “What do you mean?” he asked, slight concern lacing his deep voice.

“Well-” Dream began listing the reasons on his fingers “-for one, we’re supposed to be enemies.”

“Says who?” came the nonchalant response to that.

Dream ignored that comment. “Two, our duties as guardians contradict one another.”

“That hasn’t stopped us before.”

“You lead a gang of murderers.”

“So?”

“Nightmare-” he halted in place and whipped around to face him “-you’re my brother!”

Nightmare blinked, seemingly stunned as if this thought just occurred to him, then a scowl immediately crossed his face. “What? So you’re breaking up with me?” he yelled.

“No! I-” Dream stopped himself, stumped. Where was he going with this? Did he really want to break up with Nightmare? No, he loved his brother, but he shouldn’t love him that much. It was wrong in every sense of the word! So why did he enjoy it so much? Sure, Dream wasn’t exactly a saint, but he had morals, didn’t he?

A shiver traveled down his spine as Nightmare stood and gracefully crossed the small distance to stand intimidatingly in front of Dream, the fire casting eerie shadows over his face and his shadow looming over the smaller one, a small frown stuck to his face. Dream opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when two slimy tentacles wrapped around his waist and gently pulled him closer until his cheek bumped into his brother’s chest, the top of his head tucked neatly under Nightmare’s chin. Nightmare placed one hand on the side of Dream’s head and one on the small of his back, gently rock the two of them back and forth, murmuring, “Shh...we’ll be fine. It’s okay. Shhh...”

Dream never liked it when Nightmare’s hard exterior fell away to reveal a more intimate side of him. It scared him more than anything else because this sudden shift in his aura never led to anything pleasant.

Taken aback at Nightmare’s sudden mood swing, Dream froze, but eventually gave in and cautiously wrapped his arms around Nightmare’s solid body. Despite being the guardian of negativity, Nightmare’s warmth always caught Dream off guard - his brother’s goo made him look colder than normal body temperature should be - and he couldn’t help but lean into the comfort of his brother’s body, his soft and puffy jacket engulfing Dream, warming up his bare arms, the smell of soap still lingering from his mourning shower, his possessive yet powerful and reassuring hold on Dream’s small frame, all of his fears melting away knowing that Nightmare wanted him - was stubborn in letting him go - and that such a terrifying yet soft monster was willing to protect him from anything-

Oh, Stars, Dream loved Nightmare!

Screw morals! Dream wanted to bask in Nightmare’s lavish presence and lay in his comforting arms until the end of time.

He inhaled his brother’s lemony scent (his favorite smell!) deeply through his nose, savoring every ounce of it, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and slowly exhaled into Nightmare’s jacket, a goofy smile gradually crawling up his face inch by inch as he took another whiff of that sweet smell he couldn’t get enough of.

Dream loved his brother too much, and Nightmare accepted that fact with an arrogant type of pride.

As if initiated by the small tug on his tunic, Dream obediently trailed after Nightmare, still clinging to his jacket like his life depended on it and his feet tripping over each other, lulled by his lover’s irresistible charm that may or may not have been there and could have easily been Dream’s tendency to be swayed by others. He still let himself be pulled onto the couch, unwilling to let go of the loving embrace.

Dream had let himself become enamored by Nightmare and Nightmare happily returned his feelings. Addicted to the positive feelings of satisfaction pouring off of Nightmare in waves, he caressed Nightmare’s cheek and kissed him on the other cheek, enjoying his salty taste, bathing in the gratifying bliss that came in the form of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Alone With Unanswered Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter is "Wanna, like - I mean, if you're not busy...We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?" There is also some swearing in this chapter, so beware.

“Wanna, like - I mean, if you’re not busy...We could get lunch? Or even coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?”

Error stared at himself in the mirror before groaning and letting his head fall back until he stared at the seemingly endless ceiling, dragging his hands across his face dramatically. He lifted his head up again and glared at his reflection in the hand mirror, scrunching his face in disgust.

Error didn’t like how he looked. Shitty clothing. Ugly eyes. Yellow teeth. A bit of a hunchback. Mismatched fingers. The list goes on and on.

What was he thinking? Ink would never in a million years accept him for who he was, let alone go on a date with him. Who was he kidding? They were enemies for crying out loud! Besides, Ink would fall for someone more desirable. Someone like Dream. Or Blue. Heck, even Nightmare would appeal to him. Anyone but Error. He sighed, sending the mirror away via strings, flopping onto a nearby hammock, staring at the whiteness of his Anti-Void. So much for practicing.

The hammock swayed slightly under his weight as he stared at the whiteness above, contemplating life, wondering how he came to this point in time, wondering if it would even be worth going out. How much did he really know Ink? Definitely not enough to ask him out. Whatever. The rainbow asshole would only laugh and spit in his face, mocking and humiliating Error to the point of a reboot. Even when he practiced in the mirror, he sounded so fucking stupid! Like a child. He shouldn’t be scared! He was the Destroyer, a mass murderer! Everyone feared him! Dumb mirror.

His thoughts started moving at a snail’s pace the more he thought, his mind growing foggy with all this thinking and restlessness snaked through his entire body. His eyes grew heavy and he shut off his eyelights, folding his arms on his chest and crossing his feet at the ankles, his body releasing pent-up tension from the day as he closed his eyes, heavy breathing filling the silence as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

“HI, ERROR!”

He yelped and jumped in place. Error bolted upright and frantically whipped his head around, then let out a groan. Of course Ink had to show up now of all times!

Ink trotted up to Error, left-over ink from his portal trailing behind him, then stopped, bouncing on his toes, a giant shit-eating grin on his face. Error scowled at him, a blush rising to his cheeks. “The hell do you want?” he growled.

“Oh, just stopping by,” Ink casually responded, idly wandering away, his attention elsewhere within seconds of his arrival, observing the dolls hanging by blue nooses or sitting on the floor, hands behind his back like Error had made his home some sort of horror museum open for random viewing.

“Then scram,” he hissed, turning his back on Ink and laying back down on the hammock.

“Oh, wait! I have a gift for you!”

Error turned to look over his shoulder. “For me?”

“Yep! Just for you.” Ink calmly walked up to him, still smiling, and opened a small portal when he stood directly in front of Error. Error sat up, his interest piqued. Reaching his hand through the portal, concentrated on finding his gift, Ink muttered, “I can’t believe I almost forgot. It’s kinda sloppy, but...” A satisfied grin crossed his face and Ink pulled something out, snapping the portal shut.

A light blush rose to Error’s cheeks when he saw the item. Ink held a replica of Error’s doll, the one Error made himself so long ago, except this one held a cute, mini rose. Orange and white buttons had been sewn on for eyes and a wide smile graced the face of the doll. It wore Error’s exact outfit, down to the blue stitches sewn into the sleeves of his jacket and on his black pants. Even the flip flops held a feeling of realness, falling away from the doll’s feet, but holding on by a simple stitch on the feet. Tiny red pieces of fabric formed the rose, it’s stem coming in the form of a green string hanging out the other side of the doll’s hand. Error reached out to hold it, and Ink let him have it, running his fingers along the doll’s cheeks and recognizing the familiar feel of the fabric he used to make his own dolls. Something caught his eye and he immediately recognized the familiar texture of brush strokes.

“Did you paint this?”

Ink’s shoulders lifted up high in an exaggerated shrug, his eyes darting away. “Well, yeah. I have no idea how to sew - at least not as good as you - and I figured, why not just paint it instead?”

“Why?”

Ink hesitated, then shrugged again, his hands flopping down to his sides with a smack. “Just for funsies.”

Error glanced back down at the doll, his eyes tracing over every detail, and recognizing every one of them on his own distorted body. He honestly had no idea what to think of this. No one had ever given him anything before. How should he react?

“Well?” Ink asked impatiently, bouncing on his toes again, barely containing his excitement. “What do you think?”

Error looked up at that enthusiastic smile he loved so much; and those gorgeous eyes constantly shifting color and shape; those round cheeks he desperately wanted to squish, but would never allow himself to; his long, delicate fingers covered with brown, fingerless gloves; bits and pieces of his tattoos peeking out of his scarf and wrapping around his gracefully curved neck, beautiful things he wanted to see and touch so badly. Error wanted Ink - not just for his body, but for his personality too, a personality like no other.

Without a shadow of doubt in his mind, Error knew the time had come. This is it, practiced or not.

“Ink.” Error glanced up, lowering the doll still clutched tightly in his hands just in time to watch Ink’s smile begin to fall. He cleared his throat and looked away. He gently blew out some air to calm himself, silently counting in his head for some relaxation before looking back up at Ink whose smile had disappeared and his eye lights had changed to question marks. “I, um-” he cleared his throat again “-I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while...” His eyes flicked away from Ink’s hard stare for a split second. He closed his eyes and finally squeaked out, “Do you want to go to lunch with me?”

An awkward silence passed as Ink stared at him quietly.

Too quietly.

“Y-You know.” He shifted his feet. “Like-like a da-”

“No, I know what you mean, I’m not stupid,” Ink blurted in a flat voice. “It’s just that...”

He snorted, then burst out laughing which startled Error. He froze at the sound of his laughter, his soul thudding in his chest and dread sinking in. Ink had both hands on his midsection, laughing his ass off like he had just heard the funniest thing in the whole goddamn Multiverse.

Error’s guard suddenly shot up and he clenched his fists. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing! Sorry!” he sputtered out, waving a dismissive hand as he wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye. “It’s just funny because I was about to ask you the same thing!”

Heat rose to Error’s cheeks as his eyes widened and all loss of hope came to a sudden halt.

“Yeah, I was talking to Dream today,” he continued, rubbing the back of his skull, a guilty smile on his face. “He told me to go for it and ask you out, so I made that doll for you as a - I don’t know - a peace offering, I guess? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I would lov-”

His blabbering came to a sudden standstill, his eye lights flashing a number of symbols until they settled on explanation marks and fear wrapped its claws around Error’s soul once more. He knew that look.

“Shit! I left Dream all by himself! He probably hates me now!” Ink whipped out his giant brush, splashing unwanted black ink on the pure white floor and waving over his shoulder as he turned to go. “See ya, Error!”

“Ink, wait-”

But the artist had already jumped through the portal, leaving Error alone with the doll and a mess to clean up.

____________________________________________________________

Error didn’t know how long it had been. Hours? Days? Weeks? He didn’t know. Had his beloved Ink forgotten about him just like that? Surely not; he never had before. But what if his horrible memory loss made an exception this time? What if he had completely forgotten about Error? He hadn’t seen the artist since asking him out. So no date, no love, no happy memories, all gone just like that? All that for nothing?

Surely not.

Error mutely stared into the lifeless, unblinking button eyes of the doll Ink made for him, its form slumped over and an empty smile aimed right at Error’s blank face. Coldness from the floor seeped into his cheek and his side, his form curled around the doll, glassy eyes focusing in and out. He wondered if Ink would ever answer his question. He wondered if he would ever get that date. He wondered if Ink even remembered the question or the date. He wondered if he would be alone forever, his life always revolving around the all too quiet Anti-Void, all alone with nothing but the dolls and the voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. A New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, "Did you hear that?"

“Did you hear that?”

Error paused to listen, his eyes focusing on many different things at a time in the dismal scene. Collapsed buildings lay around him, dust scattered all over the ground, little fires burning here and there. The world he stood in had just fallen victim to the Destroyer, the world nothing more than a speck in the millions of worlds he had obliterated in the past.

“There! There it is again! Did you hear it?” a different disembodied voice cried out.

Error shook his head. “I have no idea what you guys are talking about.”

“It sounded like a cat!”

“A cat?” Error crossed his arms and started walking again. “I don’t hear any-”

“Mew!”

He stopped and partly turned. A faint meow had come from somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t tell where.

“Mew!”

He fully turned around now, trying to figure out which way to go to find the source of the sound.

“Mew!”

“It sounds like it’s coming from that pet shop over there!”

“No shit,” he retorted, marching off towards the pet store on his left, though, in all honesty, Error still wouldn’t have known where it came from if it weren’t for the voice.

Broken glass and gravel crunched under his flip flops as he approached the half-standing pet store. He took in the scenery before him: knocked over animal cages, papers scattered over the black and white checkered floor, dust coating every surface, no trace of life anywhere. He slowly scanned the area, doubt growing in his mind. Nothing could’ve survived the aftermath of the destruction as far as he knew. Nothing should’ve survived; with the endless destruction and Error’s ruthless tactics to eliminating a world, only a slim chance of survival remained. He rarely found any survivors. Movement caught his eye and he glanced towards the back of the store where he saw it.

A tiny kitten squirmed under a pile of rubble. A thick layer of dust coated its white fur, black and orange spots barely peeking out. Error noticed a wall leaning over the pile of debris crushing the kitten - thankfully not enough to kill it, but by the way the kitten whined and writhed under the sharp edges of the rocks, he could tell that the pain was excruciating.

“Mewww!”

He jumped at the loud noise it suddenly made. A brief look around showed that no other cats remained, nor any other animals or monsters. Of course! He just killed them all; no one could take care of the kitten. Part of him wanted to help the calico, but the other part...

“Error! What are you doing? Go help it! The poor thing’s going to die if you don’t!” a whiny voice squealed in his nonexistent ear.

He swatted at the side of his head, even though there was nothing there. “Quiet!” he snapped.

The kitten abruptly let out another, louder, “Mewwww!”, its claws outstretched and scratching the tile floor in desperation. A chorus of angry shouts suddenly bombarded Error’s head with protests and complaints of his lack of motivation to do anything about the situation.

Something heavy tugged at Error’s heartstrings and guilt sat at the bottom of his soul like a boulder. He knew the voices wouldn’t leave him alone unless he did something and, as much as he hated the,, he loved them and cared for their feelings. At last, he rolled his eyes. “All right, shut up! Shut up!” he hollered, quieting the voices at once.

He paused to assess the situation, then bent down and lifted the edge of the wall with the heel of his hands, careful to not step on the calico’s paws. The wall began to rise as he struggled to push it up, slowly walking past the kitten as he lifted the wall. Once it reached the height of his shoulder, he stopped. Panting, he peered over his shoulder at the calico. The kitten lay there, letting out tiny meows, clearly grateful to have the pressure off of its back. With quick calculations, Error shot out blue strings that curled around his fingers, wrapped around a leaning pole, then the edge of a standing wall opening up to the grey skies, finally grabbing one of the kitten’s front paws. Between holding up the wall and holding the string in place, he used what little strength he had left to pull the string and drag the kitten out from underneath the pile of rubble a safe distance away. He let go of the string, taking a few steps away and, with a heavy grunt, let the wall drop, a cloud of dust rising up and blowing his jacket back. He closed his eyes instinctively and violent coughs racked through his entire body. Coughing into the sleeve of his jacket, Error cracked open his watery eyes and looked for the kitten.

Once the dust settled, he took his arm away from his mouth and immediately spotted the calico. He carefully knelt by its side and gingerly picked it up. The kitten acknowledged him with a soft, “Mew.” Holding the kitten in his arms, he was able to take a closer look at the extent of its injuries.

Its eyes were sewn shut with a thick layer of dirt and cuts littered its bloody and disheveled fur. Error guessed that the wall leaning on it created the deep gash on its back. Pink skin and dry blood surrounded the gash. Dirt clogged its ears and nose, pieces of its nails missing. In one swift motion, Error stood up and opened a portal, hurrying through it, but cradling the kitten like a baby.

He didn’t know which Waterfall he landed in, but he was in a different AU’s Waterfall, its cyan waters reflecting off of the two of them. Tranquil silence lay beneath the sound of trickling water or the rustling sound of plants as Error made his way to a nearby pond, sitting on a small rock wedged in the black dirt. He opened another, smaller portal, thrusting his hand in and digging around for a rag, briefly closing the portal once he found one. With the calico in one hand and the rag in the other, he dipped the white rag into the perfectly cool water and began dabbing it on the kitten’s eyes.

The kitten instantly fought him upon feeling the damp rag on its eyes,, complaining and blindly clawing at him, all futile attempts to be rid of Error. But Error had the determination of 10,000 Frisks combined and forcefully cleaned its eyes, the kitten mewling and growling, turning its head away, but Error persisted.

A few minutes of unpleasant cleaning later, two beautiful green eyes stared up at him and he smiled down at it. “There, there,” he cooed, running a hand over its skinny body, flicking away specks of dirt still on its coarse fur. The minutes ticked by as Error felt the tension leave the kitten’s body against his warm body. After some time had passed of non-threatening advances from Error, the calico closed its eyes and a pur rumbled through its small body, happily listening to Error’s unusually soft voice.

Slowly, so as to not startle the kitten, Error dipped the dirty cloth in the pind, dirt clouding the crystal clear water, and began cleaning the small scrapes on its body. The kitten’s eyes flashed open and it glanced at Error’s gentle hand. After a moment, it turned away and closed its eyes once it realized that Error had no ill intentions, resuming its purring.

Time slipped away as Error continued to clean the kitten’s wounds. When the kitten stopped bleeding and damp but bloodless fur hung from its body, he found that actually healing the wounds would be challenging. So, he made do with what he had and what he knew - much to the kitten’s displeasure. Even so, for the first time in what felt like forever, Error felt like he made a new friend.

_________________________________________________________

“Meow!”

Error barely had time to open his eyes when his cat jumped from a ledge about a foot above him and landed directly on his crotch. He jolted in place, swearing, “Fuck!” and sitting up on his elbows to glare at his cat. Blissfully oblivious to the problem, the calico walked over his nonexistent stomach and chest - all in the wrong places, too - finally flopping down on top of him, nuzzling Error’s cheek and vibrating with happy purrs. Error sighed, rolling his eyes and reluctantly running a hand through the calico’s long and soft fur. In response, it reached its paw up to touch Error’s cheek and letting out a cheerful, “Meow!” Error couldn’t help but smile, gazing into his cat’s bright green eyes. Healthy green eyes.

Still smiling, Error leaned back down, staring in awe at the stars of OuterTale above, caressing the calico’s head and fingering the black collar around its neck, a gold pendant hanging from it revealing its name, and petting its chubby stomach. Several years later and the calico he saved from that dirty pile of rubble still loved him. It warmed his soul inside and out to know that he was loved, and he loved his cat just as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, so I've been seeing this cat with Error on the internet every now and then...and I don't know why??? Does he have a cat??? Am I missing something???????  
?????? ??  
I couldn't really find any information for it, so I wrote a backstory? I guess? Anyways, if someone could tell me who this cat is, that would be great. Thanks.


	5. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this is, "The future is now, old man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who the old man is.

“The future is now, old man.”

Dream watched in silence as Ink bent down and picked up the tea tray sitting on the circular, electronic disk, patting it with glee as it rotated and gradually drove away. He regarded it with mild amusement as the thing bumped into his foot, rotated, and continued on with its course. The machine’s route seemed so random to him and it made so much noise; it acted like a mini vacuum cleaner, Dream noted. He had to tear his eyes away from the thing to talk to his friend. “You know, I’m not even mad that you called me old,” he said. “When you said you had something to show me, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“This is only part of what I wanted to show you,” Ink clarified, handing Dream his tea and pushing art supplies off a nearby table to make room for the tray. “It’s cool though, right?”

“It is pretty cool,” he agreed, drinking from his mug. When he swallowed the hot tea, he asked, “What did you say that thing is called?”

“A roomba,” Ink declared proudly, hands on his hips.

“Right, and is...is that a knife taped to its side?”

“It is, I’m glad you noticed!”

“But why? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Ink shrugged carelessly. “Yeah, but I like it. Everyone else is doing it.”

“That doesn’t mean you should do it too,” he pointed out. He scrunched up his face when Ink’s sentence fully sunk in. “What do you mean everyone else is doing it?”

“I mean, everyone else is doing it! People like to arm their roombas like it’ll fight for them or something.” He scratched his head, gazing happily at the roomba sliding through his living room. His face lit up and his smile grew and he jerked his head back towards Dream. “But it looks cool like that, doesn’t it? Look! I even have scars from when it bumped into me!” Propping his foot up on the armrest of the couch next to Dream, he leaned forward and pointed. “There! You see?”

Upon leaning down for a closer inspection, he could, in fact, observe tiny dots around and above his ankle. They weren’t deep enough to do any real harm, but they were clearly visible. Some of them were dots from being poked, others were scrapes cutting across his heel, which must have been the roomba driving the knife against him. Hopefully not on purpose, but Dream wouldn’t be surprised if a machine like that rebelled against someone like Ink.

Ink brought his foot down and Dream straightened himself up again, taking a small sip of his tea. Ink turned and pointed at the roomba, praising it by saying, “Anyways, this thing has made my life significantly better. I even named it.”

“Oh, um, what’s its name?”

“Roomby!”

“Wow, very creative and original,” Dream deadpanned.

Ink whipped around. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Well-” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He smiled at his friend. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Ink beamed. “Good!” He bounced over to the couch, sitting down and patting the space next to him. “Sit.”

Dream obediently sat down. Sipping his tea, he said, “So how’d you hear about a...roomba?” He gestured at the disk sliding along the wall.

“I saw the humans have some in this cool sci-fi AU on the surface,” he responded. “I thought it was cool, so I made one.”

“Oh.” Dream spotted the robot as it disappeared under a chair, then come out the other end, slowing down before it collided with the wall. He had to admit the machine had a high amount of intelligence; even if it made as much noise as a vacuum cleaner, it did a good job of cleaning up Ink’s mess of a house. Paint brushes and sketch books cluttered every surface, paint stains littered the carpet, and crumpled paper lay in piles, some torn to pieces, kicked aside by Ink. The roomba simply swept by and sucked up what it could. Relief flooded him knowing that Ink had some help cleaning at least a portion of his house on top of all his duties as a guardian, especially since he never actually witnessed the artist clean it himself.

He turned back to his companion. “So, did you just call me here to show me your roomba or...?” As much as he liked spending time with his friend, he had other things to attend to.

“Oh! I have a surprise for you!” He jumped up and dashed to the roomba, bending down to push a button on top of it and shutting off the machine, saying, “I added this feature to Roomby just for this occasion!” He picked it up and carried it over to Dream, setting it down in front of him. “Watch this.” He pressed a different button.

Two small tubes shot out a tiny handful of confetti with a sign flipping up reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Ink went down on one knee and held his arms out as if to display his surprise. “Ta-da,” he said through a lopsided smile. Dream blinked, a bit - well, surprised, and Ink’s head fell with his arms. “Look, I’m sorry.” He stood up, crossed his arms, and sighed. “I know I’m late, I just wanted to do something for your birthday. I thought you might like this.” Glancing at Dream’s cup of tea, a smile suddenly struck his face. “I have another surprise for you. Check the bottom of your cup on the inside.”

Dream’s smile left his face as he curiously peered into the bottom of his mug, only a fraction of his drink left. Painted on the bottom of the mug in cursive letters were the words “You’ve been poisoned”.

He froze and Ink burst out laughing. His head shot up and he stared anxiously at his friend for reassurance, fear striking his soul. Was this why Ink didn’t have anything to drink? Did he just drink poisoned tea?

Ink shook his head, still laughing. “Don’t worry, I’m kidding!” He wiped a tear from his eye, grinning. “I found that at the grocery store the other day and just couldn’t resist buying it. I thought it’d be funny!”

Something clicked in Dream’s mind. “Oh! Ha ha! What a funny cup,” he replied, smiling politely, though his soul still pounded heavily in his chest.

Ink playfully slapped him on the arm with a grin. “Hey, lighten up, pal! I wouldn’t actually hurt you.” He chuckled.

Giggling nervously, Dream set his cup on the coffee table and stood up, intertwining his fingers. “Well, I have to go now. Thanks for inviting me!”

“No problem!” he said, picking up the empty mug and guiding Dream to the door. He shoved the mug into his friend’s arms. “Here’s your birthday gift.”

“Oh! Thank you!”

He opened the door for Dream who stepped onto the porch. “My pleasure!”

“Well, see ya!” With a wave of his hand, the mug in the other hand, Dream disappeared through a portal, his positive presence being sucked away and the noticeable emptiness sinking in.

Ink’s smile left his face and he shut the door. Better clean up the confetti off the floor, he thought, pushing the “clean” button on his Roomby. Roomby turned on and started sucking away the mess, filling the chaotic house with noise once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. The Alarm Bells Are Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter is, "Did you think I wouldn't notice you sneaking out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt takes place in Dreamswap, with a different Blue and Error. This is also taking place before the Meme Squad ever happened. One more thing: mild violence warning. I don't know if there should be a warning for manipulation or something, but keep in mind that it happens here. Fun times.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking out?”

Error froze, his hand on the handle of the front door, so close to freedom. Chills ran up and down his spine, the cold seeping through his socks knowing Blue had caught him, like a wolf hunting down its prey. His boots were sitting right outside the door on the front porch. He could easily fling open the door, throw them on and run far, far away. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get that chance tonight. Blue wasn't someone he wanted to be chased down by. He clutched his jacket tighter, gulping. “I wasn’t sneaking out,” he lied, his voice quivering.

Blue’s footsteps slowly thumped forward, startlingly loud in the deathly quiet house, and stopped directly behind him. “Then what are you doing up so late?” he breathed, his breath tickling Error’s cheek.

Error turned his head, his face inches from the other. Even in the darkness of the house, no lights on for them to see, Blue’s sky blue eye lights were brightly twinkling with mischief as he stared him down. “I-I just needed some fresh air,” he explained, his eyes darting everywhere but his captor’s cold stare. “I couldn’t get any sleep, so-so I decided to go for a w-walk.” He finally looked back, trying to gauge his reaction amongst an expressionless face.

“In the dead of night?”

He nodded.

A moment of silence passed.

Finally, Blue leaned back with a satisfied hum. “Alright, if you say so,” he said calmly. A shock ripped through Error’s body when Blue laid a gentle hand on his upper arm. “You should go back to bed and try to get some rest; you really need it.”

“Don’t touch me,” he said with a stern voice, his voice low in a warning tone, jerking away.

Blue sighed dramatically. “Really? This again?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “C’mon, Error. Don’t be like that. I’m your friend, I should be able to-”

“I said, don’t touch me!” he shouted and slapped away Blue’s hand before he could lay a finger on him with a SMACK! Deafening silence hung between them, the air thick with tension as Error glared at the other. Blue remained quiet, his disapproving gaze unwavering. A sudden gasp escaped Error and he grabbed the hand he smacked Blue with, quickly withdrawing it to his chest. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you!”

Blue smiled. “It’s okay, Error. I forgive you. But you really do need to get rid of this silly fear of yours; it’s starting to get to your head!”

“I know,” he admitted, staring at his feet.

Blue started herding him towards the stairs, his hand hovering over Error’s back. “I’m sorry I touched you. I was just concerned that you were up so late. Come, let’s go back to bed.”

He barely nodded, finally giving in. “Okay, Blue.”

_______________

Error stood alone in the dim hallway, trying to figure out why there were bells tied to his doorknob, his head tilted to the side in confusion.

He had woken up that morning only to open his bedroom door and hear a loud "ring ring!" as well as metal banging against his door. It startled him enough for his hands to start shaking and his soul to start pounding with adrenaline because of the sudden noise that rang through the entire house - no doubt in his mind that Blue heard it. He started to calm down once he realized there were bells; though it perplexed him as to why there were jingle bells hanging from his doorknob. They were tied together with red and green strings, six silver bells hanging down in a cluster. He gently pushed one with his finger and the bell let out a tiny "ding!"

He had a slight idea of what the reason could be for the bells’ presence, but his anxiety wouldn’t let him jump to conclusions. What if he was wrong? He figured there was a pretty good chance that he was just being paranoid and they were simply a couple of harmless bells - nothing to fret over. He still wanted to know why they were there though.

He turned away. “Blue?” he called as he trudged down the stairs.

“Good morning, Error!” came the delighted call from kitchen.

Error poked his head in, the smell of pancakes and bacon sizzling on the stove attracting him as well as the one cooking them. “Blue, why are there bells hanging on my bedroom door?”

“I thought it would be time to start putting up Christmas decorations,” he responded casually, his back to Error as he flipped the pancakes.

“It’s not even November...”

Blue paused, his spatula still in his hand. “Error,” he sighed, “can’t I spice up my house decorations a bit? Is that too much to ask?”

Error fully stepped into the kitchen now, fiddling with the ends of his scarf. “No, that’s fine, but...they’re only on my door. Why-” He glanced up only for his eyes to meet bright blue ones staring harshly at him from across the kitchen, a greasy spatula clutched tightly in his hand and his mouth set in a firm line. It paralyzed him and his mind went blank, his soul starting to thud in his chest again. Error looked away and shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I mean, they are...nice.”

A smile flashed across the other’s face before he turned away again. “Good! I knew you’d like them. I put them there just for you!”

Error grimaced, his soul still thumping as paranoid thoughts raced through his brain.

Blue turned around again with two big plates filled to the brim with pancakes, bacon, eggs, and a variety of other breakfast foods. He set them down on the kitchen table, one across from the other, with a cheerful yet commanding, “Now eat up! We have a big day ahead of us.”

His suspicions were confirmed - or as confirmed as they could get since Blue didn’t actually verbally express it. Error knew the real reason behind the bells, but he also knew better than to argue with Blue. He learned a long time ago that sometimes it’s best to placate him. So, like the good friend he was, he cast aside his worries, sat his ass down at the table, thanked Blue for the food, and shoveled pancakes into his mouth to shut himself up, choking down his complaints.

After all, he never had a say in anything, did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this is,"You can't be serious." "Do I look like I'm joking? Now lick it." Warning for references to sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll. I finally figured out how italicize things. I don't know why it took me this long to figure it out, but it did. Also this is probably the most sexual thing you're going to get from me. Maybe. I don't know.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking? Now lick it.”

Cross hesitated outside Nightmare’s bedroom door. Tranquility as well as a sense of eeriness echoed through the dim hallways, lit only by candles and a few chandeliers in connecting hallways. Cross saw nothing but brick walls and candles as he traveled through the castle in search of Nightmare. Finally, he found him after looking in his office and then wandering down the winding castle halls. He didn’t want to intrude on the “king’s” private quarters, but what he heard made him do a double take.

“No! That thing’s too big to fit inside my mouth!” Error. What was _ he _ doing with Nightmare? He never saw the two of them together. At all. And what was up with that _ sentence _? It really wasn’t any of Cross’ business, and he wasn’t usually a nosy person, but...

“Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager to do it yesterday! And now I have some free time to let you do it. Besides, if you don’t do it, you’ll lose the game.”

Silence filled the castle as Cross crept closer to the door, his interest piqued. He had a vague idea as to what they were talking about - his face lightly flushed as the idea formed - but he wanted to know more about what they were talking about before he jumped to conclusions, his original reason for coming to the castle long gone from his mind. Plus, he had nothing to do, so it wouldn’t hurt to stick around, right?

Awkward silence behind the door stretched for so long that Cross thought they might have left. His eyes darted over the door, listening carefully. Then there came a quiet, “Fine...” from Error. Between his pride and dignity, of course he would choose to do whatever the thing was. From what he’s heard and seen, Error isn’t the type of person to “give up,” especially if it will make him look better. Cross took a tiny step forward, his fluffy hoodie brushing his face as he pressed the side of his head against the door, anticipation internally killing him.

He heard nothing at first. Faint, heavy breathing came from the other side, the noise getting a little bit louder every second, and he strained his hearing to figure out what was going on (but, to be honest, he already knew _ exactly _what was going on). The heavy breathing eventually faded away with a sigh. “It tastes a little salty,” Error commented.

A dramatic sigh from Nightmare followed. “Error, it’s suppose to taste like that.”

“That’s nasty.”

“Did I complain when I went down on _ you _? No. Quit whining and open wide!”

“Ack-!”

A gasp escaped Nightmare. Cross leaned against the door, crossing his legs uncomfortably. He fiddled with the waistband of his shorts. He ran a thumb along the inside, tickling his bones only to pull away and forcibly place his hands on the door. Nightmare moaned from the other side of the door, his voice deep and husky, his breath hitching every so often or cutting off sharply. Error made no more comments - in fact, he was silent. Cross could only imagine why.

He shuddered at the image that instantly came to his head, embarrassment crawling over his bones like bugs. What was he doing? This was wrong! How could he stand there and listen? This memory would forever be drilled into his head and no amount of time spent with Dream, the innocent child of positive feelings, could wash it away. No, he was better than this. He shouldn’t be here. _ He _ was wrong to be listening to their...activities. Let them have their fun by themselves. He can’t stay. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t making him happy; it was only making him more uncomfortable the more he thought about it. He sighed, knowing he’d better leave. Nightmare would be available later.

Somewhere in between his overwhelming guilt and trying to push himself off the door, his hand accidentally placed itself on the golden handle and pushed it down. His weight leaning on the door suddenly shoved it all the way open and Cross face-planted into the soft rug of Nightmare’s bedroom with a surprised yelp. He cringed when the door ricocheted off the wall with a BANG! He internally groaned. So much for being sneaky. Time to face the consequences, unfortunately. All too soon (in his opinion), he made himself peel his face off the floor, his cheeks turning warm with a blush darker than the curtains covering the bedroom windows.

Nightmare stared at him with an unblinking eye and a second later, Error’s head hastily popped up from behind the desk, his shoulders rising and falling with every heavy breath he took and his eyes glassy. The smell of alcohol tinged the air and Cross noticed two bottles of whiskey sitting on the desk, both of them opened and half empty. All three of them stared at each other for what felt like several moments too long. Everything stopped moving. The Multiverse held its breath for Cross. He might as well be having a stroke; his heart pounded like he just ran a marathon. Cross scrambled to his feet, his mouth opening and closing, searching for any reasonable excuse he could find.

Nightmare’s limp smile dropped into a frown. “Either close your mouth or close the door. You’re acting like a child. I don’t have time for your nonsense today.” He paused, his brows furrowed and his mouth set in a thin line. “Can’t you see that Error and I are _ busy _?” He exaggerated the last word.

Error flinched, eye lights going blank.  
  


Cross shut his mouth and quickly scurried out the door before the other two could say anything else. He made sure to firmly shut the door behind him on his way out. He honestly didn’t care about the consequences Nightmare would most likely have for him later. He just wanted to get out of there.

“Cross? Can you come back here please?”

He stopped. Nightmare had called his name loud enough for him to hear. He couldn’t squirm his way out of this one, no matter how hard he tried. He took in a deep breath and turned back around. Creaking open the door, he poked his head in, waiting for further instructions from Nightmare in the safety of the threshold, light from the hallway spilling into the dark room. He didn’t trust himself to be able to speak yet.

A smile graced the guardian’s face. “Cross, would you be a doll and lock the door for us? We wouldn’t want any more...” His eye narrowed, his black tentacles swaying in the air above him threateningly. “...interruptions.”

Cross stared at him. He glanced at Error. His eye lights were back, a blue blush lighting up his otherwise dark face, but the daggers he shot at Cross with his glare told him he’d better get going soon or he’d deeply regret it. Cross glanced at Nightmare and, with a mute nod, turned to lock the door, leaving the room at last. In the hallway, he let out the breath he’d been subconsciously holding.

Nightmare watched Cross’ aura leave the hallway, dash up the stairs, and lock itself in Cross’ room. With an amused smile, he turned back to Error who slowly knelt in front of him again, satisfied nothing else would interrupt them. He raised an eyebrow at Error. “Shall we continue?” he asked with a smirk.

Error looked away, mumbling something akin to, “I told you to lock the door...” as he unzipped Nightmare’s pants again.

Nightmare leaned back in his chair. Pleasure overtook his body in waves of ecstasy as Error resumed what he had been doing before getting interrupted. He’ll make sure to talk to Cross later and “punish” him for cutting into their fun...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )


	8. The Joys Of The Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this is, "I tried to tell you I couldn't bake!"

“I tried to tell you I couldn’t bake!”

Cross wanted to gag. He held a chocolate chip cookie in his hand, the dough puffy and soft to the touch. He immediately regretted trying one.

To celebrate Christmas Eve, Dream invited Cross over to his house for dinner. Cross was more than eager to spend the night at his boyfriend’s house. Dream told him he’d be making turkey for dinner and some of his favorite desserts; he wanted lavish food, something that would “really bring out the holiday spirit of Christmas.” So, Cross gathered the presents he got for Dream and headed over to his house. Dream told him the door would be unlocked, so he let himself in, setting his presents under the Christmas tree in the living room. Warmth surrounded him as soon as he entered the small house as well as the smell of cookies and he had the sudden urge to take off his jacket. He set it on the couch, gazing at the lights strung along the walls and the mistletoe hanging in the threshold leading to the hallway.

“Dream?” he called as he walked towards the brightly lit kitchen.

He found Dream fretting over a tray of ginormous, freshly baked cookies. Upon whipping his head around and spotting Cross standing in the threshold of the kitchen, he promptly shoved one in the other’s hand, saying they looked funny and the raw dough tasted a little salty before he put them in the oven.

Cross obviously obliged. At first, they tasted pretty okay! Then the aftertaste hit him like a freight train. To put it simply, if he had a blindfold on and Dream hand-fed him that cookie, he would have thought Dream dumped a handful of sand in his mouth. That’s how dry and salty it tasted.

With as much of a poker face as he could muster, he choked down the bite he had taken out of the cookie. “It’s, um...great!”

Dream pulled his nails away from his teeth, his worried expression pulling into a frown. “Cross, don’t lie to me,” he said. “Even if I couldn’t read your feelings, I’d know you don’t like it because you had a split second of reaction on your face.”

He didn’t react. Instead, he turned his attention to the cookie still in his hand. “Did you put in all the ingredients?”

“See, that’s where I’m stuck!” He left Cross’ side to grab the cookbook sitting on the counter with the ingredients all laid out in front of it. “I put in everything I need and I did  _ exactly _ what the recipe told me to do!” He ran a gloved finger down the list of ingredients as he mentally checked them off. Eggs, brown sugar, flour, baking soda, milk, vanilla extract...Yes, he had everything he needed. So what was the source of the problem? “I just don’t understand,” he said, lifting his gaze to his significant other.

Cross picked up the tray holding the cookies and carried them to the trash can. “Let’s start over and I’ll help you make the cookies while I finish making dinner.”

Dream nodded with a tiny smile. “Sounds like a plan!”

Ten minutes later, all the bowls and measuring cups he’d used earlier had been washed and were now ready for another round of baking. He washed the counter again, thrown away the cookies (sadly), and turned the oven on yet again. Dream glanced at Cross. “Are you ready, Cross? I’m going to tell you what I’m putting in so you can make sure I don’t make. Any. Mistakes.”

Cross saluted him. “Aye, aye, sweetcheeks.

“Don’t call me that! It’s embarrassing!”

“Love you too, Dreams.” He leaned across the table to peck him on the mouth.

A blush spread across his face with a small smile. He picked up the Crisco butter and some measuring cups. “I’m putting in three-fourths cup of Crisco butter,” he began, ignoring the butterflies arising in his metaphorical stomach.

“Butter, ‘kay.”

For a while, everything went smoothly. Dream measured everything correctly - approved by Cross who periodically checked on his progress - and mixed it well. As the two worked to prepare their Christmas Eve dinner, the kitchen slowly started smelling of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cookie dough, and the likes. The counters became crowded with food and dishes as well as silver ware to be set out on the table. They worked in comfortable silence as they prepared dinner.

At last, Dream reached the last part of the recipe with no mistakes he could see. Glancing at the recipe, he measured out some flour. “Okay, now I’m putting in one and three-fourths cups of flour.”

Cross nodded as he began boiling the green beans. “One and three-fourths cups of flour,” he dully noted.

He poured the flour into the bowl and moved on to the next thing. “One teaspoon of salt.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Three-fourths cup of baking soda.”

“Three fourths cup of...?” Cross stopped cooking and spun around, eyes going wide. “Stop, stop, STOP!” he yelled, his arms held out.

Dream froze, his arm inside the bag of baking soda with a measuring cup, his soul pounding.

Cross scurried around the counter and gently pulled Dream’s arm out of the bag of baking soda, simultaneously scanning the recipe. Finding the measurement for baking soda, he pointed. “It says you only need three-fourths  _ teaspoon _ of baking soda.”

He blinked. A blush crept up his cheeks and he giggled. “ _ Ohhh _ ...oops.” He burst into an embarrassed smile. “Oopsie! My bad! Ha ha!”

Cross sighed. “That’s why it tasted so salty. Why did you think it said three-fourths cup of baking soda?”

He shrugged. “I-I don’t know...I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

He grabbed the right measuring spoon and placed it in Dream’s hand, trading out the measuring cup and closing his bony fingers around the spoon. “Good thing I caught you.”

“Cross, I can measure it myself,” Dream protested with a pout, pulling his hand away.

He raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend, but nonetheless stepped aside to let him finish baking.

____________________________________________

“Yum! These cookies are delicious!” Dream beamed, melted chocolate chips and cookies crumbs coating his mouth. He licked his teeth with a grin, dipping his cookie into his glass of milk and biting off a huge chunk. “I love cookies! Hee hee!”

Cross tried to dip his own cookie in the milk, but it got stuck going into the glass, making a heavy sounding  _ thunk _ . He stared at it for a second before taking it out and shaking his head. “Thanks, Obama,” he muttered.

Dream looked away from watching the snow fall out the window. “Did you say something?”

“No,” he said before taking a sip of his milk.

“Oh, okay!” He went back to the window. “Look at that snow. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He jumped when he glanced at the table and realized Cross stood right beside him, a warm hand sliding around his waist.

It sure is,” he replied, his voice as stoic as ever.

Dream smiled. The bright kitchen wrapped its cozy arms around the couple like a warm hug, the smell of turkey and cookies as well as other food floating through the air like a distant memory. The Christmas lights on his roof lit up the area around the house, but the darkness gradually grew thicker the farther he started out into the forest. Not a sound could be heard inside or outside the house in an eerie, but - at the same time - peaceful sort of way.

A light tug on his tunic drew him away from his thoughts. “Let’s go watch a movie before I get too tired,” Cross said as he headed towards the living room.

Dream glanced down at his cookie, the melted chocolate staining his finger tips, then shoved the entire thing into his mouth as he trotted after Cross. “Coming!”

The living room was by far the most decked out in holiday cheer in the entire house. Twinkling lights adorned the windows and the front door, bringing a pleasant feeling to the otherwise dark room. Of course, he had a Christmas tree in the corner filled with lights, ornaments of varying sizes, gold garland, and a huge gold star on top. Presents surrounded the trunk of the tree. Most of them were presents for Dream from Cross, and vice versa; about half a dozen were for Ink and Blue (the latter having to wait for Dream to bring his presents to his AU because he can’t world-travel); and one in the back for...

He shook his head. How was he going to give it to his brother? Nightmare probably wouldn’t even open it. Might as well throw it away...

No! Bad Dream! Positive thinking! He’s here to celebrate Christmas Eve with his boyfriend, not mope around about his brother!

“Dream.”

“Hm?”

He looked down at Cross who kneeled in front of the movie cabinet under the T.V. He had a circle of movies around him and two in his hand. He waved one of the movies he held in the air. “Which movie?”

“Oh!” His eyes lit up with stars - literally. “A Hallmark movie!”

Cross scowled. “Ugh, no.”

“What! Why?”

“Those movies are so dumb.”

“No they’re not!”

Cross’ mouth formed into a thin line. “Yes they are.”

Dream pouted. “Fine! But we’re watching a Hallmark movie tomorrow when Ink comes over;  _ he _ at least appreciates them.”

Cross rolled his eyes and went back to picking a movie. He didn’t believe that Ink liked those kinds of movies, and he wouldn’t believe it until he saw it.

Dream’s angry face dropped. “Did you pick out a movie already?”

“Yep,” he said as he slid the disk into the CD player.

“What are we watching?” he asked as Cross stood up and led him to the couch by his hand.

He simply stated,” It’s a surprise.” He pushed Dream onto the couch. “Now enjoy the movie I picked out; you’ll like this one.”

Dream leaned into Cross’ chest, his arms wrapped around his shoulders and Cross’ arm casually hung around his shoulder. A hush fell over them as the movie started, though neither of them made it half way through because they both fell asleep in each other’s arms, their bellies full and their souls filled with love and joy as the snow quietly fell outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the same thing Dream did once; I accidentally put three-fourths cup of baking soda in. It tasted dISGUSTANG. It tasted like when you're at the beach and you get hit by a wave and go under and end up with a mouthful of salt water. It's nasty. -2/10, would not recommend.


	9. For Love and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is actually a whumpee prompt named "missing stuffed animal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this isn't like the usual prompts I do. But! I have an excuse and that is that it's the holidays and everything is happening all at once and at the same time, I have to mentally prepare for the plans I made for the holidays. I tried, I really did, but Saturday arrived and I did NOTHING in preparation for this update. So, enjoy this thing that I wrote a long time ago and improved tremendously in the span of an hour and a half.

Error stumbled through a portal, yawning and dragging his feet behind him. The portal snapped shut behind him, leaving him in the silent and utterly empty Anti-Void. He intertwined his fingers behind his back, pulling, cracking the bones in his spine, wheezing as he stretched, and finally releasing the pressure with a relieved sigh. A lazy smile briefly flickered over his face.

A nap would be great right about now.

Error had a long “day” of destroying worlds, then dealing with Ink, fighting with him, having to blow off steam in OuterTale for longer than he cared to remember, the works. He honestly couldn’t see why the squid fought so hard for those worlds, especially since they never did anything for him. And he tried to see it from Ink’s point of view sometimes! He really did try! But for the life of him, he could not figure out why in the Multiverse Ink stuck around for his role as a guardian. Maybe that’s just his purpose in life? Maybe it was a calling he couldn’t turn down? What a wonder it is to know your role in such a useless place like this!

He sighed before he slumped towards a hammock hanging from a ceiling too high up to see. Soon, it will all be erased and it won’t matter anymore. Nothing ever did anyway. Those were future plans though. His plan in the now was to take a nap.

He brushed a hand over the soft material of the dark blue string he used to craft the hammock, grabbing the blue blanket laying on it which he also made. He reached a hand up and shot out strings which brought down a white, plump pillow. He carefully set it at one end of the hammock, straightening it nicely. He gazed blankly at his small setup, blue blanket clutched in his fist and hanging at his side. He furrowed his brows in deep concentration as the gears in his mind worked, his eyes scanning every detail of the dreary hammock. No, not quite dreary - empty, as a matter of fact. What was it? He tapped his teeth with his finger as he thought. There must have been something missing, otherwise he wouldn’t hesitate to jump into bed.

Ah. That’s it.

His stuffed animal was gone.

He rubbed his fingers together as he remembered the brown curly hair of his teddy bear and the giant red bow tied around its neck. Nothing came close to the feeling he always got whenever he hugged it; in good times and bad, it always brought a smile to his face. He loved that abomination! A comforting weight sat in its fluffy belly. It always reminded him of holding a baby or a small animal. Except it never squirmed or cried which pleased him to no end.

Only a fool would tell others they sleep with stuffed animals - at least, so he told himself. It would ruin his reputation and pride if everyone knew he slept with a cuddly teddy bear! Especially that bastard called Ink. Stupid Ink. And so he never told anyone about it.

So where could it be? Error knew he never moved it. Ever.

Error scratched his head, searching the white floor, but of course it wasn’t there; there was nothing to be seen in the Anti-Void except for the constant blinding white and the occasional blue of his strings. Nothing sat on the floor, so nothing could hide it. From the strings already hanging from the ceiling, he didn’t recognize any soft fur or heavy weight dangling from the strings, nor any signs of the teddy bear’s whereabouts.

He let out a slow exhale before wiping his hands on his shorts.  _ It’s okay, Error _ , he told himself - or was it a voice? -  _ You probably left it in OuterTale. _

Strange, though, because he never took it outside of the Anti-Void. Of course he would be wrong when he traveled to that AU and - surprise, surprise! - it wasn’t there. That didn’t stop him from hastily opening a portal and stepping onto the rocky terrain of his favorite AU. Better safe than sorry.

_ It’s okay, Error _ , he reminded himself,  _ it has to be somewhere. It can’t just disappear out of thin air, right? That’d be insane! _ He took a moment to place a hand over his thumping soul inside his chest before opening his eyes.

He landed next to the spot he usually sat at when he went there: a spot hidden from view of the residents in OuterTale by rocks, boulders, and the shadows they created, overlooking a far drop into the glistening stars surrounding him. An endless black and purple abyss acted as the backdrop beyond the stars and painted a brilliant scene like something from a bizarre dream. The silhouettes of rocky islands big and small floated in space miles away from him, a peaceful silence hanging between them. The stars winked at him and took his breath away.

As much as he wanted to sit there and stare at them for hours on end, his eyes drooped and his body sagged with a type of tired that had him thinking he was going to pass out from exhaustion any second, and he had something more important to do. He began looking under rocks, scanning the ledges beneath him, retracing his footsteps, digging through bushes - even going as far as briefly checking the nearby Snowdin - but nothing. The more he searched the area, the more his anxiety grew.

He wiped his palms on his shorts and gasped for air between ragged and shaky inhales of breath. His head whipped around wildly. Where the hell was it?!

He grasped his chest in a panic. He couldn’t find air and his teddy bear was gone! No no no no noNONONONONONONONONONONONO!!!! This was  _ NOT _ happening! Nope, nope! He’ll find it; it’s around somewhere! He was already tired enough, no need to panic over a  _ stupid _ teddy bear-

He turned sharply on his heel. It may be stupid, but it was  _ his _ teddy bear and it held a special place in  _ his _ fragile soul. He  _ will _ find it!

He immediately squatted in the dirt, clawing at his aching chest as darkness gradually crawled around the edges of his vision. He searched everything, inside and out, up and down, everywhere! It _disappeared_! It wasn't lining up with his logic that told him it absolutely _had_ to be somewhere. He was quickly running out of options of places to search.  


He tilted his head around and frantically turned it this way and that, his eyes darting over places he has checked four million times.

Where is it where is it where is it where is it where it it whERE IS IT WHERE IS IT WHERE IS IT WHEREISITWHEREISITWHEREISITWHEREISITWHERETHEFUCKISIT!?!?!?

Voices filled his head, but he couldn’t differentiate them from one another. Everything suddenly mashed together: his vision, the voices, his thoughts-

He had to get out of here! “Here” wasn’t an ideal place to stay. A quick wave of his arm created a portal for him and he fled back to the Anti-Void.

He cried out in pain as tears raced down his cheeks, one after the other, thankfully in the safety of his home. But was he really safe? Not without his teddy bear! His teddy bear wasn’t anywhere!! Where could it be? He never took it anywhere...did he? No. He would never. He collapsed on the floor, arms flung tightly around his shoulders in an attempt at a self-soothing hug as he sobbed painfully.

HIS TEDDY BEAR WASN’T HERE!!

He cried out once more and finally fell on his side, loud, ugly sobs escaping him and cutting through the quiet Anti-Void. His only source of comfort in this cruel world had suddenly gone missing without a clue as to where it went.

What did he do to deserve this...?

_________________________

Ink smiled softly at the teddy bear in his hands, silently adjusting the giant red bow to the front of its neck as he walked through the Doodle Sphere. The stuffed animal had a comforting weight around its bottom and he cherished it, hugging it to his chest affectionately as happiness flowed through him. His smile grew immensely; hugging the bear reminded him of hugging Dream (He gave great hugs!).

Speaking of Dream, Ink forgot to get his dear friend a Christmas gift. Despite the lack of time in the Multiverse, most monsters made a silent agreement to follow the DreamTale time frame and Ink wanted to get his friend something special for such a strange tradition. Of course, he forgot to get a present for his friend - again! Dream always got him at least a couple of nice presents, big and small. It made Ink feel bad for only being able to get him one gift every single time despite his lack of natural emotions or feelings in general. He thanked the stars he even  _ wrote _ himself a reminder for the event on the faded brown fabric of his scarf, a small note between the random scribbles on his abused scarf.

In a desperate panic and need for a decent gift, he stupidly went to Error’s Anti-Void for ideas, whole-heartedly expecting the glitch to immediately snap at him. Much to his surprise, no one greeted him.

Ink smiled at the memory of his immense delight upon finding the teddy bear sitting idly on one of Error’s many blue hammocks. He might not have found it at all if the lump beneath a blanket on one of the hammocks didn't pique his interest. What a surprise it was to find a  _ teddy bear _ of all things in  _ Error’s _ Anti-Void!  _ This will make a wonderful gift for Dream, _ he thought merrily as he picked up the bear and jumped through an inky portal. Dream will love it! Thanks Error for the gift “idea”!

Part of Ink wanted to talk to Error and make sure it was okay to take his stuffed animal. After all, he did kind of steal it. But the other part of him, the  _ rational _ part, told him he didn’t  _ need _ to ask for permission. He can take it; it’ll be fine!

Besides, he probably won’t care that it’s gone. He won’t even  _ notice _ . Error certainly won’t miss it or need it any time soon, right?

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for witnessing the bean suffer :)


	10. Sweet Dreams are Made of...These?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this is,"There's been some real friction in our friend group lately. I suggest an orgy to save our friendship." Warnings for mention of orgies and such. Dreamswap shenanigans ensues.

“There’s been some real friction in our friend group lately. I suggest an orgy to save our friendship.”

No one responded to Nightmare’s statement at first. A pin drop could be heard in the room where most of Dream’s meetings took place. Not a word was uttered. Then, ever so slightly, everyone shifted in their seats to look at those sitting next to them and those sitting across from them. One by one, they all started to nod in agreement. Their mouths curved up into smiles as a quiet murmur rose among them.

Nightmare regarded this as such a genius move. This will fix many problems. When he said “lately,” he actually meant the past hundred years or so. He didn’t want to leave his brother out of this; Dream would be so upset! He also wanted to fix his relationship with his brother and this idea proved to be the perfect opportunity to do so.

His eyes landed on Error, whose smile lit up the whole room in a second. Error. Oh, poor Error, who has had a rough time with his relationship with Blue! Nightmare only wants the best for his friend. Hopefully this will put Blue in his place and show him what for for being a little toxic prick. An orgy can fix this, no problem!

Oh, and how could he forget about Cross? He most certainly couldn’t forget about his dumb “friend” Ink. Cross has always wanted to be friends with Ink again ever since their...fallout. He will be so happy after this get together Nightmare threw together on a whim without actually thinking it through, as per usual.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Nightmare.” He turned to his brother, who smiled at him sweetly, his wings bright with yellow light and tucked neatly behind him. Positive feelings radiated from his core. “I would be more than happy to participate.”

“I as well,” Blue chimed in.

“Me too!” Cross exclaimed excitedly as his hand shot up in the air.

Error nodded along in mute silence, but the grin stretching across his face made his feelings towards the situation obvious.

Everyone turned their heads to the last person sitting at the table, who sat next to Cross. He had his sneakers propped up on the table and his arms crossed over his chest arrogantly.

“Ink?” Nightmare asked. “Would you care to join us?”

Swinging his legs down with a  _ THUMP _ and sitting up in his chair, he nodded. “Yes, I will be.” He looked away and muttered to himself, “I can finally cross that off my bucket list.”

Nightmare slammed his fist on the table with ambition too big to contain. “I’m glad you all could join me for this. I don’t know what’d I’d do without you!”

“You’d jack off all by yourself and die alone!”

“Nobody cares, Blue!” All eyes returned to Nightmare as he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Who’s ready to get down and dirty with the ol’  _ devil’s tango _ ?”

Everyone let out an excited cheer that filled the room with positive emotions and beaming smiles. Even Ink couldn’t help but grin with anticipation.

“That’s the spirit!” Nightmare shouted with glee. He smiled at his handy work. Nothing like a good ol’ bonding moment with his friends to fix all their problems.

And the rest of the night was history...

__________________________

Nightmare jolted awake, his soul pounding and a hint of arousal fluttering through his body. He stared at the ceiling above him, tracing the outer edges of the brown stains with his eyes and watching the fan spin lazily in a circle, around and around and around and around and around and...

What the frick did he just dream about? An orgy? Fuck that! He didn’t even  _ want _ to be in the same room as half the people in his dream, one of them has a problem with touching, another is his  _ brother _ , and the other...it’s complicated.

And how would an  _ orgy _ , of all things, fix their problems, which include a multitude of broken relationships with a string of lies and misunderstandings? Whatever. Nightmare would  _ never _ in a million years propose an orgy. Gross.

“What a weird frickin’ dream,” he mumbled.

“What?”

He glanced at the spot next to him. Cross sat in the middle of their torn couch next to him, a blank expression and a slight frown on his face, a video game controller held tightly in his hand. Error leaned forward to peer around Cross’ giant frame to gaze at him.

Nightmare sat up and rubbed his head. “What happened?” He stared at the controller held loosely in his hand like he just noticed it. “Did I seriously fall asleep?”

“You fell asleep in the middle of playing video games!” Cross exclaimed, his eyes wide. He sat back and cast his eyes to the end screen playing on the TV. “I didn’t know we were  _ that _ boring.”

Nightmare gaped at him. “Hey! Don’t blame me for this shit. I only got two hours of sleep last night.  _ TWO _ !”

Cross rolled his eyes. “Alright, whatever. By the way, it’s your turn to make dinner.”

“Damnit,” Nightmare whispered as he hoisted himself off the couch to go make dinner in the kitchen.

Once Nightmare had left the living room and walked out of hearing range, Cross suddenly turned to Error. “Dude, did you hear Nightmare talking in his sleep?”

Error stopped fiddling with the buttons on the controller to look up at his friend. “He does that?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Not very often, but yeah, he does.”

Error shook his head. “No, I’ve never heard him do that before.”

“Well, anyway, I heard him mumbling something weird in his sleep.”

“What was it?”

Cross leaned backwards to see into the kitchen beyond the doorway to make sure Nightmare wasn’t paying attention the them - which he wasn’t - then he leaned closer to Error, but only a hair closer so as to not make his friend uncomfortable. He whispered, “He was talking about an orgy.”

Error paused before his soft face screwed up into that of confusion. “An  _ orgy _ ? You mean like-” he gestured with his hands “-sex?”

“Yes, that’s  _ exactly _ what I mean! What other orgy would I be talking about?” Error opened his mouth to respond, but Cross cut him off when his mouth lifted up into a smirk as he leaned away, saying, “I don’t know about you, but I’m down.”

“Well, I’m  _ not _ ,” Error spat as he spun his body back around to the game still playing on the TV. “Count me the fuck out.”

Cross laughed. “Will do.”

“Will do what?” Nightmare asked as he trudged into the living room and flopped back onto the couch. “What are we doing?”

“Are you making dinner?” Cross asked suddenly.

Nightmare jerked his head towards the kitchen. “‘S on the stove.”

“What’s on the stove?”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Yes!” Cross pumped his fist in the air and started messing with the controls again, selecting a new character for another round of the video game he and Error were playing, even though he would still lose, no matter what character he chose.

The room fell into silence after that. For a while, no one said anything to each other. Nightmare watched Error and Cross battle it out through video games, slouching down until he was practically laying down with his head propped up on the back of the couch and his legs splayed out in front of him. Furious clicking from Cross and Error jamming their fingers on the controllers poked through the silence as well as the sound effects from the video game. Nightmare simply observed them and occasionally got up to check on the sandwiches.

When he went up to put the finishing touches on the sandwiches before serving them, Cross began giggling hysterically.

“What’re you laughing at?” Error said automatically, his eyes fixated intently on the TV screen.

Cross smirked. “I’m gonna ask Nightmare about his dream.”

“Don’t,” the other whispered softly.

Cross shot him a suggestive look in which Error returned with a not so friendly look.

Nightmare walked into the room and sat back down again. “Dinner’s ready.”

Silence.

Only about ten seconds hung in the air before Cross ever so gently put down his controller and slowly turned to his friend. “So I hear you’re into orgies.”

Nightmare choked on the air he didn’t need. “What!? No I’m not-”

“Uh-huh. Your sleep talk tells me otherwise. Error heard you too.”

“I am not apart of this,” said skeleton grumbled.

They both stared at each other. A smirk plastered itself on Cross’ face and seemed to be gradually increasing with each passing second of silence. Nightmare could only stare harshly at him as a warm blush took over his cheeks and his neck. He abruptly stood up. “Dinner’s ready. I’m eating-”

“Dick.”

“Shut up, Cross!” he shouted as he stormed towards the kitchen. “You and your sick fantasies can kiss my ass!”

“In your dreams!”

“sHUT UP!”

Error, on the other hand, quietly slinked into the kitchen, hoping this little argument between his friends will die down soon. If he didn’t say anything, maybe - just maybe - he will escape unnoticed and won’t involuntarily get sucked into his best friends’ shenanigans. If he played his cards correctly, he could avoid them for the rest of the night and never hear about this orgy ever again. Such a tactic as this usually worked.

Everyone will forget it like it was a far away dream in no time at all. He has nothing to fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Supernatural Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, "Stop laughing at me!"

“Stop laughing at me!” Dream pouted at Ink, who giggled hysterically, snorting like a pig. Even in the darkness of their bedroom, Dream could feel his boyfriend’s broad smile and the shifting of the bed underneath him as his body shook with laughter. The positive aura that came from him mixed with Dream’s own, slightly irritated, aura. “It’s not even that funny!”

“Yes it is!” Ink cackled.

“I’m serious! I had a bad dream.”

Ink threw his head back as another round of laughter overtook him. “Dream had a ‘dream’!” He howled at his own joke, which he obviously found hilarious for some reason. In Dream’s opinion, it really wasn’t that funny.

He huffed. “ _ Fine _ . I won’t tell you about my dream,” he said as he fell back on the bed and turned his back on him. Waking Ink up proved to be a terrible idea, and now he might not get back to sleep because laughing made him a little squirmy and hyperactive.

As the last of his laughter died, leaving behind a wide grin, Ink leaned over Dream’s smaller form and touched his shoulder. “Aw, no, wait, c’mon! Tell me about it!” He shook his shoulder. “I wanna hear it now!  _ Please _ ?”

Dream rolled over and peered into Ink’s eyes glowing in the dark. He contemplated telling him for a second. He sighed. “Alright, I guess...I had a dream-” he snuck a wary glance at the other’s curious gaze “-about...” He narrowed his eyes at the darkness above and blinked a few times. “Well, I’m not actually sure. It was...weird.”

“All dreams are like that.”

The comment passed over his head, unaffected. “You and I were in this room of sorts. It had furniture - tables, a couch, windows - and a mirror hanging on the wall. There was also this super cute dog with us! For the first majority of the dream, we were playing with the dog and having a good time together. But any time I got near the mirror hanging on the wall, the dog would suddenly come sit in my lap and start counting down, but I don’t know what to. It was somehow whispering to me in this haunting and ghastly voice.”

Ink quietly nodded along, carefully listening and brushing the tips of his fingers on his boyfriend’s exposed arm as he recalled his dream. The sensation sent chills up and down his spine.

“There was another part of my dream I thought was weird and creepy,” he continued. “You and the dog, and the mirror, were gone. I was back at the Tree of Feelings with Nightmare, but this must have been centuries ago because he was back to normal.”

He stopped. Ink let him gather his thoughts for a moment, but his patience slipped through his fingers like water. “Then what happened?” he asked quietly with an underlying tone of eagerness.

“Do you remember when I told you about how Nightmare and I used to play together a lot when we were younger?” Ink shook his head. Dream didn’t acknowledge the movement, diving right into his story. “It felt like that because we were playing a game of tag, just like we used to, but he had a knife and was always ‘it’. Every time he caught up to me, he would stab me - but like, in a joking manner? I would always bleed, but he would laugh; a genuine laugh, like he was having fun. And I would laugh, too. He kept catching me and we would keep laughing like we were playing around and having a good time. Nothing about it felt funny, but we kept laughing. It was extremely weird and disturbing.”

Ink’s eyes traveled over Dream’s shaky bones. His golden eyes darted about the darkness. A noticeable shift moved the air around them from his endlessly positive aura - which had been sitting peacefully in the background until this moment - to fear. Dream rested his free hand on top of Ink’s hand.

“It’s so strange, and I’ve been thinking about what this could all mean before I woke you up.” He sighed and finally looked at Ink. “I felt scared when I woke up, and it scared me the more I thought about it, so I woke you up,” he concluded. “Sorry.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, shoving the dream into a little box in the back of his mind. “So, how were your dreams?”

Ink beamed. “Oh! I had a wonderful dream!”

“Oh, well, I’m glad  _ you _ had a good dream,” he remarked.

“I do have a good dream,” he said, patting his boyfriend’s head with a chuckle.

Dream pouted, but yellow blush that covered his round cheeks quickly replaced it. “Ink, you’re so dumb.”

Again, another hearty laugh. “But I’m not  _ wrong _ , am I?”

He rolled onto his side. “Sure.”

Silence embraced them as Ink collapsed next to him and lovingly wrapped his arms around Dream’s waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck, knowing their conversation had ended and decided to forget about it. Nothing like good ol’ short term memory loss coming in to help you forget about all your fears and the potential danger you could be in! Besides, comforting Dream brought him joy.

A calming blanket of sleepiness covered them and they began to doze off again. The tension in the room and surrounding Dream faded away and positivity resurfaced again like a long forgotten friend. Neither of them said anything more for a while. That is, until Ink’s body tensed and he started laughing again.

“What are you laughing at?” Dream mumbled into his pillow, hardly caring to know the answer.

“Dream had a ‘dream’! Hehe!”

“Oh my stars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Gone forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, "I love you. I mean, I'm still gonna kill you, but man, oh, man, am I gonna feel bad about it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have more drink, I guess??

“I love you. I mean, I’m still gonna kill you, but man, oh, man, am I gonna feel bad about it!”

How did things turn out so  _ badly _ ? Everything panned out exactly as it should be. What happened to their relationship?

Ink didn’t appear very...stable that day; Dream sensed it instantly through his aura. Ink suddenly pulled a knife on him and from there, everything blurred together. He acted purely on his instincts and his reflexes. Dream didn’t usually use violence as a way to deal with his problems, but he might have died if he didn’t fight back.

It shouldn’t have ended this way.  _ He _ shouldn’t be the one with dust on his hands.

He sat motionless on the floor, his arms hanging at his side, staring uselessly at the pile of grey dust on the wooden floor in front of him.

Why did Ink want to kill him? Why? Did he combine the wrong vials? Was it something Dream said or did? He couldn't think of anything that would upset the artist so much he would resort to violence. So then what was it?

The house didn’t breathe any more. No heavy footsteps will pound up and down the stairs in excitement again. No songs will play from the radio while the smell of macaroni and cheese danced around the kitchen again. No more will Ink paint another beautiful painting. No more will he laugh and smile with all of his friends, who all held him dearly in their hearts, Dream included. No more will he feel another faux feeling.

A tear rolled down his pale cheek.

Now what was he to do? Cry? Leave? Tell someone? None of those options felt desirable. But he didn’t want to do nothing at all either. The gnawing feeling of guilt sucked away at his soul like a leech. His mind replayed the scene over and over in excruciating detail for him.

Surprise. Worry. Fear. Knife. Panic. Grab the wrist. Take him down. Dust. Surprise. Worry. Fear. Knife. Panic. Grab the wrist. Take him down. Dust. Surprise. Worry. Fear. Knife. Panic. Grab the wrist. Take him down. Dust. Surprise. Worry. Fear-

_ Over and over and over and over and- _

_ No, stop it _ , he told himself. “Stop it,” he whispered aloud.

He reached out and barely touched the dust. His finger left a small indent in the pile. With blank eye sockets, he scooped what he could into his cupped hands and took it to the trash can in the kitchen. He tipped his hands, but paused.

If he were to dump his friend’s ashes,  _ he _ would be gone forever. He didn’t want Ink to disappear!

_ Dump it _ , a voice told him, but he couldn’t will himself to do it. The more he told himself to  _ do it _ , the more the voice sounded evil and distorted. He is throwing his friend away! He is throwing his murdered friend away! How disrespectful! What a horrible friend he was!

He had to do it though. He had no choice.

He sucked in a breath. Turning his hands downward, he watched as the dust fell silently into the trash can.

Gone forever.

__________________________

Ink liked to think of himself as an emotional person; he loved using his vials to feel every emotion he could after all! It was times like these that made him not like them very much.

A knocking at the door startled him from his stupor. He sniffled and clumsily wiped his wet cheeks with his hand, which did nothing but smear the tears even more. He clutched a cyan vial in his sweaty fists, its contents spilling onto the couch, his shirt, and his hands.

Ink lay on his side on his couch, staring at the wall, sobbing his metaphorical heart out, a puddle of tears beneath his head. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and curled inward. He cried out, tears flowing from his eyes.

The knocking came again, more urgently this time. He reluctantly picked himself off the couch, whimpers and sobs pouring from his quivering mouth as he went to the door. Opening the door, his eyes landed on a frowning Dream.

“Ink, why is your aura-”

Upon seeing his friend, Ink unsteadily collapsed into his arms, much to Dream’s utter surprise, wailing and blubbering nonsense like a drunk. “I love you! I’m sorry I ever doubted you! I’m so-sorry! Sorry I doubted you! I’m-I’m-I’m-”

Dream, on the other hand, hesitated before patting Ink’s back as he wheezed and choked for air. He was really shaken up, huh? What happened?

“Um, I...I love you too?” Dream couldn’t decide if that was the right response, so he quickly changed the subject to something he knew how to do: comfort. Ink clearly needed it. “Uh, take some deep breaths, Ink,” he calmly stated to which the other obeyed. “Are you okay? I could feel your aura clear across your yard when I got here! What happened?”

He only got more mindless apologies as a reply. Dream had to lean backwards uncomfortably to support the weight of his much bigger friend, who continued to cling to his clothes like a lifeline, spilling his blue vial on Dream’s clothes. (Dream later concluded this was the source of his troubles based on the blue stains on his  _ and _ Ink’s clothes, but he didn’t know  _ why _ they were the source.)

They sat there for a few minutes, Dream awkwardly rubbing circles on Ink’s back while the other cried until his tears died down. Once that happened, he still didn’t let go, but merely closed his eyes and rested his head on his friend’s shoulder, oblivious to Dream’s confusion.

Needless to say, Ink never truthfully told him what happened, and Dream knew it.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	13. Up In Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was reading the prompt list and accidentally read next week's prompt. It fit with this week's prompt, so now I give you two prompts: "I need a place to stay." "Well, that's tragic." A Dreamswap tragedy, I guess.

“I need a place to stay.”

“Well, that’s tragic.” Nightmare slammed the door in Ink’s face and started to march back to the living room. Not even half a second later, a frantic knocking came. He whipped around and opened the door. “What?”

“Let me in.”

“No!” He slammed the door again. More knocking immediately resounded through the house as soon as he turned his back on the door. He sighed, then opened it.

“I need a-”

“Ink, go away! I’m not letting you in.”

Silence filled the air between them as they both glowered at each other. The cold night air drifted into the house, making him shiver under his shirt and jeans and giving him another reason why he should shut the door and forget about this interaction forever. Ink tilted his head to the side. “Why are you such a dick?” he finally asked. Nightmare would have taken it as a genuine question if it weren’t for the scowl that cut across his face.

“Because-” He cut himself off. He smelled something new he didn’t notice when Ink first knocked on the door: smoke. Its strength crawled up his nose and he sniffled, tears coming to his eyes as an automatic response to the smell. He took a step back, eyeing the other for a moment. “Why do you smell like smoke?”

“Maybe if you let me in, I’ll tell you,” came the snappy reply.

“No! You should stay out here and freeze to death! Good night, asshat!”

“Justice Reigns burned down.”

Nightmare stopped the door from swinging all the way closed. He hesitated before pulling it open again. “What did you just say?”

“I said,” he hissed, “Justice Reigns is  _ gone _ .”

Nightmare gaped. “...What?”

“It’s gone. And it took the whole  _ goddamn village _ surrounding it down too. Now let me in.” Ink elbowed his way past Nightmare, through the mudroom, and into the next room, the unpleasant smell of smoke trailing after him, as well as bits of soot in his footprints.

Nightmare stared at his retreating back, wanting to go and ask him a million questions - What happened? How did it start? Is my brother okay? - but his hand stuck to the doorknob like glue, his feet unwilling to move. His eyes zoned in and out, his mind swimming with thousands of thoughts all coming at him at lightning speed, his small brain unable to comprehend them all at once.

If Nightmare is still alive, then surely Dream is too, right...? Life without his brother would be...

...empty.

Snapping out of his trance, he shut the door quietly and followed after Ink. “Hey, wait! You can’t just tell me JR burned down and then come into my house like that! Like, who the frick do you think you-”

He turned the corner and slammed into Ink’s sturdy back, who stood in the threshold of the kitchen. The smell of smoke surrounded him and Nightmare noticed burned off pieces of his jacket and his scarf, the fabric still red from fire. Nightmare stood on his tippy toes and peered over the taller one’s shoulder to see what caught his attention so suddenly, spotting Cross standing on the far side of the kitchen, shoving a whole bar of chocolate into his mouth. Even from where he stood, the positive energy and the stars in his friend’s eyes were enough to tell him everything. He sat back on his heels and rolled his eyes. Of course Cross would be happy to see Ink. He shoved his way into the kitchen.

“Hi, Nightmare!” Cross said, his mouth full of gooey brown chocolate.

“Cross, that’s disgusting. Close your mouth when you’re talking.”

“Ink was just telling me he’s spending the night,” he continued, completely unfazed.

“No, no, no! He is  _ not _ staying here.” His attention went back to Ink leaning against the doorframe. “Ink, what do you mean, ‘Justice Reigns burned down’?”

“Justice Reigns is gone?” Cross interrupted, suddenly serious.

“Yes,” Ink said before he could respond. “Boss went missing too.”

“He must be alive, though, because Nightmare’s alive, right?”

He frowned at Cross. “Why does that matter?”

“He never told you about that?”

“About what?”

"Obviously he didn’t,” Nightmare said.

“About  _ what _ ?!”

“Excuse me for intruding on your little party down here, but what the hell is going on?” Three pairs of eyes went to the stairs where a disgruntled Error stood, his arms crossed and a pout on his face. He adjusted his glasses and fixated his eyes on Ink. “Why is Ink here? Did JR find us again?”

“Apparently JR is no more,” Cross replied nonchalantly, putting another piece of chocolate in his mouth.

“ _ What _ ?”

He shrugged. “According to Ink, yeah, it’s gone.”

“That’s why I’m staying  _ here  _ tonight.” Ink pointed at the ground to further emphasize his point.

“No. You’re not welcome here,” Nightmare said.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“I vote he stays here!” Cross volunteered.

Nightmare held up a finger, ready to shoot a snarky remark at Ink when a sudden thought popped into his mind. “Wait, how did you even find us?”

Everyone instantly shut their mouths, their moods shifting to curiosity as everyone looked at Ink, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“I, uh...” Ink looked away and visibly gulped. “I got it from, um....sources.”

Nightmare stared at him and slowly spoke out loud as a thought began to form. “Don’t tell me you asked Blue.”

He nodded. “I asked Blue.”

Error’s eyes darted between the three of them, wringing his scarf nervously. Nightmare felt the confusion in his aura, his soul yearning for an explanation. Nightmare knew Error trusted him with all of his soul, but hearing his old “friend’s” name still made his anxiety get riled up.

Nightmare let out an exaggerated groan. “Alright, fine! You can stay the night, but only on one condition-” he took a step towards the skeleton in question “-you leave in the morning. Got it?”

“Fine.”

“Yay! Sleepover!” Cross cheered with a bright smile.

Ink went to follow Cross out of the room when Nightmare stopped him. “One more thing,” he said, slowly walking towards him in what he thought would be intimidating.

Ink couldn’t suppress an eye roll. “What?”

“I want to know everything about the ‘burning’ of JR.” He stopped in front of him. “Right now.”

Ink regarded him. He wasn’t an intimidating person - at least not right now - not by a long shot. He had at least a foot on him and some decent combat skills. However, this was Nightmare’s territory, so fighting him here wouldn’t be ideal. Besides, Nightmare  _ will _ find out what happened one way or another; Ink learned that annoying trait of his through experience. Not telling him anything would only make Ink look suspicious.

He huffed and took a step back. “Fine, whatever.” He pulled up a chair at the table. Nightmare took a seat across from him and sat back with his arms crossed.

“Start talking,” he demanded.

“Ooh! Story time!” Cross clapped his hands and eagerly sat at the table with them.

“I did not sign up for this,” Error muttered under his breath and darted back up the stairs to hide in his room.

____________________

Dream watched with sorrow as all his hard work went up in flames right before his eyes, the blaze brightly burning and lighting up the forest, even the little hill where he stood miles away, safe and sound at last. Standing there at the top of a hill with a cold breeze endlessly blowing by him was nothing compared to standing in a smoky room, the walls heated with angry flames. His stony face gave nothing away, but his fists hanging by his sides and his tense shoulders said everything about his mood. He grit his teeth.

That bastard.

“Lord Dream!” He unclenched his fists and turned to the voice. A soldier stopped in front of him and saluted. “We have reports of survivors to the East of us. A group of ten, I believe.”

“Excellent. Send out troops to go retrieve them for me,” he ordered. “It is important that we all stay together.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier saluted him again, but Dream held up a hand to stop him from walking away.

“If I may ask...,” he started uncertaintly, “there haven’t been any...sightings of my assistant Ink, have there?”

The soldier shook his head. “I have not heard of anything, sir. Shall I tell the locals to keep an eye out for him?”

“That would be helpful, thank you,” he said. “And if you do find him, please, put him in handcuffs and keep him guarded at all times.”

The soldier gave a final nod. “Yes, sir!” He turned and marched off towards the rest of their temporary camp.

Dream grimaced as he turned back to the flames, which were thankfully dying down, but not by much. He cared about his fellow citizens and wanted them as far away as possible from the fire. He could already feel the stress of the next couple days kick in. Relocating, healing the citizens mentally and physically, organizing...and arresting Ink. Why he set the castle up in flames, he did not know. He only knew Ink didn’t want it to go this far, ever. His fear twisted around the room and nibbled at Dream’s mind as he fled, never to be seen again as the fire he started roam the village and took what it wanted.

He sighed and tore his eyes away from the sight, deciding it would be best to take care of his citizens - at least there weren’t as many casualties as he expected there to be.

As for Ink, he sincerely hoped he will have a change of heart before Dream ever saw him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	14. A Little Piece of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” Hints of sexual content in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed this on my phone, but I’m not sure if that will make anything look weird. So if it looks a little funky, sorry. I’ll fix it when I can. Anyway, enjoy!

“I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” Ink peered at Dream out of the corner of his eye. He had his eyes closed, his small hands wrapped around his cup of tea sitting on the table in front of him. Ink knew he definitely wasn’t asleep; Dream sat up straight with a look of concentration on his face. The more Ink hung out with Dream, the more he came to recognize the little moments when he would meditate. “Dream?” he asked.

He unhurriedly opened his eyes and gave him lopsided smile. “Sorry, Ink. I had a rough day too, but I don’t want to cuddle.” He stood up, taking cup of tea and pushing in his chair. “I just need to be alone right now. Sorry.” He wordlessly and slowly shuffled out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, staring at his feet as he went.

Ink sat back in his chair with an angry huff. His plan to get some affection from his loved one didn’t work. Damnit! Now how will he entertain himself? He stretched his legs out and propped them on the chair across from him, absently looking around. He watched the clock, listening to the unusually loud ticking. Then he watched the water droplets drip from the faucet above the empty sink with tiny  _pings! _ He craned his neck up, pressing it against the back of the chair. Oh, hey, there’s a spider on the ceiling! It kinda reminded him of Error.

Perhaps Error would like to...? Nah, he’s not the touchy-feely kind of guy. Let’s see, who else could he bother? He rolled the options around in his head, trying to figure out who would likely give him a good time.

A name popped into his head. He grinned. Now there’s an idea!

His body melted into a black puddle of ink. His being disappeared into the dark abyss between worlds. Nothing remained except for the black ink stains on the chair and on the cold tile floor surrounding it.

___________________________

Nightmare set his pen down and massaged his temples. Being evil king of the Multiverse certainly had its benefits until the paperwork came in. It stressed him out sometimes. On days like these, putting aside his work and sitting on his throne, doing absolutely nothing at all, sounded like a better option to him. He rested his face in his hands and groaned.

Something tapped in his mind and he glanced up, searching for the source of the new presence in his office. Nothing appeared out of place and he never heard the double doors open. Nothing moved among the bookshelves lining the walls or the filing cabinets. He scanned the rug on the floor, concentrating deeply on pinpointing where the new aura came from. A hand suddenly touched his arm. “Hi, Nightmare!”

He spun around and shot at Ink with his tentacles. Black ink splattered across the wall and his chair, staining the curtains covering the window behind him, but he knew Ink well enough to know his attack didn’t scare him off, nor did it hurt him. “Why are you here? Are you looking for a fight?” he shouted.

“Nope! So what’s up?”

He turned to the other side of his chair and grunted when he saw the intruder. Ink leaned against Nightmare’s office chair, one arm propped up on the back of it and the other draped over his jutted hip, his legs crossed casually at the ankles. Black ink covered his shoes and left a small puddle beneath him. Nightmare’s irritation grew as he stared at Ink’s smug smile. He growled, “If you’re looking for Error, he’s not here.” He moved his chair back towards his desk sharply, partially trying to throw the artist off balance. “In fact, he’s never here.”

His maneuver didn’t deter Ink. “Oh, I’m not here to see  _him_.” Hands behind his back, he ambled around to the front of the desk to face Nightmare directly. “I’m here to see none other than the king himself!” He came to a halt in front of him.

Nightmare sighed. “Ink, I don’t have time for-“

“Ooh, what’s this?” He grabbed Nightmare’s pen, gently brushing his fingers over the giant white feather in awe. “This is so cool!” He gazed at the tip of the pen, then dipped his pinky in the jar of ink, narrowly avoiding Nightmare swatting at his hand. Without moving his head, his eye lights slid up to meet the king’s one good eye and he smirked. “This is a big pen.” Nightmare frowned and silently dug through Ink’s emotions suspiciously, trying to decipher what he was trying to accomplish as Ink looked away and quietly set the pen down. “I saw your giant thing, want to see mine?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what this is all about?”

The smirk grew tenfold.

He sighed heavily. “I’m not interested.” He glared at Ink. “Shoo!” He poked the guardian’s forehead with a tentacle. “Go on, git! Go find someone else to fuck.”

Ink’s smile still remained frozen in place, even as he peeled the dot of goo off of his forehead. Fidgeting with the slime, he said, “Aw, c’mon! Don’t be such a party pooper.” He leaned over the desk on his elbows, his face inches from Nightmare. His voice dipped lower in volume seductively. “That’s not the Nightmare I know,” he purred. “The Nightmare I know wouldn’t back down. In fact-“ He suddenly pecked Nightmare on the mouth “-I think he wants to do it.” He kissed him again, harder. Then he grabbed Nightmare’s jacket and pulled him closer, showering him in short, rapid kisses on his mouth and along his jawline. It stunned the king and he froze, his mind going blank and panicking at the lack of ability to move. Warmth flew through his bones and made his cheeks flush. Almost subconsciously, Nightmare leaned into the last kiss on his mouth before Ink pulled away with a satisfied grin.

Something strong tugged at his soul and made the spots lovingly kissed by Ink tingle. He couldn’t fully put his finger on the feeling. There is a moment of confusion before he finally opens his eye and stares at the artist’s face - the rainbow blush covering his cheeks and his eye lights switching between upside down hearts and different pastel colors - trying to think of something witty to say, but nothing came.

Ink burst out laughing, clapping his hands with immense joy. “I knew it!” he shouted triumphantly. “You like it! You’re not immune to _my_ sexy powers!” He continued to laugh.

He mercilessly gripped the armrests of his chair, his body going stiff. Oh, Nightmare did not like being toyed with. He did  not like that at all. Instead of wanting to rip him to shreds though, his magic was directed elsewhere and he shifted uncomfortably.

Nightmare couldn’t take it anymore. He abruptly stood up and marched over to Ink, ready to give him a piece of his mind.

Ink’s laughter faded away as he watched Nightmare approach with amusement, his smile growing. “What are you going to do, Nightmare?” he asked coyly.

He didn’t stop in front of Ink until the tips of their shoes were touching and they could feel each other’s breath, his shadow looming over him as he opened a portal. “You asshole, you know  exactly what I’m going to do.”

Eying the bedroom through the portal, Ink smirked. “Giving up already?”

He groaned, already walking through the portal. “Let’s just get this over with...”

“Okay, daddy-o!”

Nightmare didn’t know why Ink wanted to be with _him_ of all people. He didn’t even know why _he_ wanted to do it himself. He only told himself it will be a one time thing and nothing more. He shut the portal and locked the doors to his bedroom, almost too eagerly. At least he wasn’t working on the stack of paperwork at his desk anymore. 

______________________________

Ink rolled over in the king sized bed, burying his face into the lush pillow and inhaling the fresh scent of detergent. He lay in the middle of the bed and spread his arms and legs out like a star under the purple blankets. His naked body sunk into the cool mattress as he sighed deeply, the ceiling fan above him blowing cool air over his bare shoulders.

Nightmare left him in the bed about an hour ago, somehow even grumpier after what he did with Ink. On the other hand, Ink felt much better! Nightmare didn’t say anything to Ink afterwards - simply got up, put his clothes back on, leaving Ink’s own clothes strewn across the floor, and left. Ink didn’t say anything to him either; he watched him go as he basked in his happiness because he got what he wanted after going through all that trouble. However, he fully understood Nightmare wanted him out of his castle before he came back, which, if Ink had to guess, wouldn’t be for a while. So he decided to take a small catnap in a bed much cleaner and bigger than his own while he had the opportunity.

He took one of the many pillows organized neatly on the bed and stuffed it under his chest. He reached under the covers and peeled black slime off of his pelvis. Resting his chin on the pillow, he began idly playing with the slime, twisting and stretching it between his fingers, rolling it like a ball then squishing it in his hand. He yawned, closing his eyes and laying his head down, massaging the slime between his bony fingers. Playing with it made him feel relaxed and he impulsively decided to keep it as a souvenir once he left the castle. After all, Nightmare probably had four gallons of goo on him - it’s not like he’d miss one little piece or anything. For now though, Ink needed to get some well deserved rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	15. Dear Nightlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

Nightmare frowned and took off the red devil mask. “I didn’t scare you, not one bit?” he asked, clearly disappointed.

Dream shook his head with a sad smile, setting his notebook and pen next to him on the soft, green grass. “Not one bit, Nightlight.”

He grunted and plopped onto the ground next to his brother, leaning against the firm trunk of the Tree of Feelings. Dream pat his brother’s knee as a comforting gesture. “Where did you get that mask from?” he asked, pointing at the mask sitting on Nightmare’s lap.

“I found it in the attic of that abandoned cottage down the road,” he replied without looking up from tearing handfuls of grass out of the dirt.

He nodded. He remembered the old cottage he and his brother found a couple months ago. Nightmare occasionally wandered over there, either to hang out in its general vicinity or go exploring inside it. That old shack creeped Dream out a bit, but it made him happy to see his brother doing something besides lurking in the shadows and being a wallflower.

He cast his gaze out onto the field below the hill they sat on and farther down to where the village lay. He smiled as he watched the children play below the hill, their laughter floating up to where the brothers sat as they kicked a ball back and forth. In the trees, a few song birds chirped bright, happy tunes while others took off into the bright blue sky, merely black dots against the white puffy clouds in the distance. Some birds came back to the Tree of Feelings with worms in their mouths and fed it the fluffy chicks impatiently awaiting in neat little nests made of sticks and leaves.

Dream loved spring, when the village came to life with children running through the streets and flowers blooming into the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He especially loved the cool shade the Tree of Feelings provided and the gentle breeze carrying the refreshing scent of flowers and freshly baked goods from the village bakery. At this time of year, his worries melted like the snow in December and joy thrived in every creature around him. Dream wished it could stay spring forever; everything felt so brilliantly alive at this wonderful time of year!

“BOO!” Nightmare suddenly grabbed Dream, his eyes wide.

Dream simply turned and smiled at him. “You can’t scare me, Nightlight; you’re sitting right next to me!”

Nightmare glared at him. “That shouldn’t matter! You’re like, the wimpiest person I know!”

His smile fell like rock. “No I’m not! You’re even wimpier than I am! Remember that time a butterfly flew by your face and you thought it was coming to kill you?”

His brother’s face turned as purple as his shirt. “I didn’t see it coming! And-and I never said it was coming to _ kill _ me!”

“Yes you did,” he said, turning his body to fully face him. “You said - and I quote - ‘It’s coming to effin’ kill me!’ You screamed like a little girl.” He giggled as his brother’s face turned a deeper shade of purple. “The fear in your aura sky rocketed and the butterfly left without harming you of course. You’re afraid of the ‘poisonous fanged butterfly,’ as you called it.” He giggled again, having made that last part up.

Nightmare opened and closed his mouth, stuttering and trying to think of something intelligent to say to defend himself. However, all that came out of his mouth was, “How _ dare _ you.” He stood up and pointed at Dream. “Just you wait! I’ll show you I can be scary.” He spun around and Dream took the movement as his cue to follow him. Upon standing up though, someone called his name and he looked down the hill.

“Dream!” A little child with a big grin on his chubby face and his arm waving wildly at him in the air called his name. “Come play with us!” All the boys and girls surrounding him cheered with glee and excitement.

“Maybe later,” he called back with a smile and a short wave. The disappointment rose up from the kids as they walked away, but they resumed playing their game again a second later. He turned on his heel and went around the tree to go find Nightmare.

The temperature dropped significantly on his brother’s side of the tree. Being in the middle of the afternoon, the sun mostly shone on Dream’s side, leaving the shadows to dominate the dark side of the tree. It made the negative apples hanging high above him look like black holes in the tree. No birds sat on the gnarled branches. Nothing made a sound except for the leaves rustling in the slight breeze passing by. Dream pulled his yellow cape tighter around his shoulders, glancing around.

How could he disappear this quickly? He could’ve sworn Nightmare came over here to this side of the tree because he watched him with his own eyes. Where could he have gone?

“Nightmare?” he said. He couldn’t be far.

No one responded. Nothing moved. Why did everything sound so much quieter over here? With no noise from the village in the background, everything felt...lonely, and maybe a little empty.

He suddenly wanted to leave. Where did his brother go? “Nightmare?” he tried again, louder this time. “Nightma-”

A pair of hands grabbed him and he yelped, whipping around. His brother stood behind him, grinning, wedged into a small nook in the trunk of the tree, engulfed by the shadows.

Dream slapped his hands away, instantly feeling a little irritated. “Don’t do that! You’re so creepy!" he whined, his soul pounding with adrenaline.

“But did I scare you?” Nightmare asked hopefully, wiggling out of his hiding spot.

Dream pouted, unwilling to admit defeat.

“Aww, did I scare the _ wittle bwaby _?” He pinched Dream’s yellow cheeks and leaned in closer. “And you said I wasn’t scary because I was ‘sitting right next to you.’”

“Stop! You’re so mean!” He swatted his brother’s hands away. “Alright, fine, I was a little scared-“

”Only a little?”

”Exactly! But that’s only because I didn’t see you!”

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Dream angrily sighed. “Fiiiiine. You freaked me out a lot and I was totally scared.”

Nightmare chuckled. “So then tell me, dear brother...” He leaned in closer, grinning wolfishly. “Am I scary now?”

______________________

Screams resounded through the darkness, penetrating Dream’s fragile mind and shattering his soul to pieces. The cold walls of the cave provided him little comfort, but gave him a decent place to hide from his brother.

Tears raced down his cheeks at the thought of his sweet brother turning into a goopy monster, his fangs as sharp as knives and his face distorted in rage. The bucket fulls of tears pouring out of his eye sockets stung the cuts on his cheeks and neck, mixing in with the blood and staining his bright scarf a deep red. He curled into a ball on the dirt floor, his arms crossed over his chest, heaving, trying to push the negative feelings around him out with the single ounce of positivity he had left, but the plug had been pulled and the negative feelings sprouting in the air like weeds drained him. The blood continued to pump out of him with every painful scream he heard, but nothing compared to the amount of blood on his brother’s hands - his poor, broken brother who killed thousands upon thousands - thousands upon thousands which Dream could not save

All alone with nothing but his bow which he clung to with a death grip, Nightmare had managed to trap him in this rocky cave where the walls continuously closed in on him. He thought he might die. His friends were nowhere in sight, the life and positivity had been sucked out of this AU, which snatched away his ability to heal himself, let alone create a portal and flee.

Dream remembered promising Nightmare one night he would be his best friend, forever and ever, no matter what. Nothing could separate them. So what happened to them? What did he _ miss _ that made Nightmare turn against him? Why is he suffering so much?

Where did things go so horribly _ wrong _?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	16. The Dolls Are Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, "When I picture myself happy...it's with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, sorry I didn't post on the usual day, but I'm sick as fuck and it's not really helping my productivity.

“When I picture myself happy...it’s with you.”

The rain pelted onto the man’s yellow hair and his large, muscular shoulders, running down his hard face and soaking his clothes. He gently held his lover’s delicate hand in his massive paw. Her hands were smooth and dry because of the protection her black umbrella gave her from the rain. They sat in solemn silence, gazing into each other's eyes.  


She furrowed her brows and looked away with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry...Asgoro,” she said, her voice full of sorrow. “You know I don’t feel the same way about you...” She yanked her hand away, putting it against her forehead and turning away dramatically. “I love another man!”

“Toriel, no!” Asgoro cried. "That man isn't right for you!"

“I didn’t think I would be crying this episode, but here we are,” a random voice commented, their voice thick with unseen tears.

“Noooooo! Asgorooooooooo!!” another voice moped.

“Both of you shut up!” Error hollered, his voice glitching uncontrollably. He glanced at Blue and glared at him. “What?”

The doll continued to smile at him eerily as it fell over noiselessly.

He groaned and put the doll back to its original sitting position. “Ugh! You’re not even watching the show!” He jerked the doll’s head towards the portal before sinking back into the cushions of his bean bag.

Error glanced at Anomaly Number Thirteen’s doll and held its hands up. Making his voice deeper and gruffer, he said, “It’s not even that good of a show.”

He dropped the doll as he fully turned towards it. “This is a mother fucking masterpiece, you piece of shit!” he screeched. He slapped the doll with the back of his hand and sent it flying several feet away. He grumbled curses under his breath as he went back to the show. Nothing offended him more than an insult towards his favorite show.

A few peaceful seconds of silence passed.

Then, “You wouldn’t know a masterpiece if it came and punched you in the face!” The doll came soaring back over his head and landed in front of him. He whipped around furiously.

No one was behind him.

He narrowed his eyes at the empty space as if that would help him see at all and stood up, scanning the white area meticulously. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  _ Bullshit _ , he thought, but sat back down nonetheless.

Scowling, he pick up the doll and adjusted its black jacket. He knew  _ he _ didn’t throw it. The voice didn’t sound like the one he gave it. It sounded deep...but a fake kind of deep, like someone was making their voice deep to mimic him. No traces of glitching were found in the voice though.

He squeezed the doll in his fist, staring deeply into its unmoving red eyes, then dismissively threw it up in the air for the strings to catch. He wanted to forget about it and continue watching his show, but something nagged at the back of his mind like a pesky mosquito. He knew something wasn't right of course, but he didn't have the energy to investigate.  He picked up a bar of chocolate and tore through the wrapping. He bit off a piece of it and chewed on it angrily, involuntarily lost in thought.

_________________________

Error stared at the blue nooses hanging in his Anti-Void and the dolls staring blankly at him with their lifeless, creepy smiles, their heads bent at an angle. They listened carefully as he whispered to himself under his breath. He moved from doll to doll, listing their names, sending glares at certain dolls, and moving on.

“Hm.” He grunted as his gaze wandered idly from doll to doll. Where was Ink’s doll? He could have sworn he put it here. He remembered specifically putting it _right here_.  


He narrowed his eyes at an empty noose. Speaking of which, where was the doll of Anomaly Number Thirteen? He remembered having it when he last watched Undernovela. He dug through the memories in his mind, but no results were found as to where he could have put the doll.

He scratched his head. “Hey, have any of you guys seen Ink and Number Thirteen?” Silence. He turned around. “Guys?”  No one answered him. The voices must not have been listening to him at that moment. He shook his head, sauntering over to a metal box hung by the strings, a box filled with buttons of varying shapes and sizes, thread, fabric, scissors, and the likes. “Time to make a new one, I guess,” he muttered.

__________________________

Error took off his glasses and folded them neatly, then put them in his jacket pocket. He stood up, wiping the dirt off of his shorts. He took one long, silent gaze at the twinkling stars, their presence so bright they illuminated the area around him, making everything around him as clear as day. It was time to go though. He turned to leave, readying to open a portal with his magic, then stopped in his tracks.

Sitting on a small rock in front of him, a couple of his dolls were lined up, all squished together so they could all fit on the rock. “What the...” The curse on his tongue vanished into thin air and he mouthed the word, but no noise came out. He knew he didn’t put those dolls there - why would he do that? And how did they even get  _ here _ ? He counted the dolls. Fifteen of his dolls.  As his eyes scanned each face of the dolls, his eyes stopped on a particular one. He took a step toward it, hesitated, and picked up the Ink doll. He knew this was the original doll because it had a tear in its shoulder, which he never got around to fixing. A few dolls down was the one he made not too long ago in place of the original. He seriously didn't leave Ink here, did he? That would partially explain why it was here of all places, but...

“What?” he suddenly said to the dolls. None of them answered. “What?” He grabbed the Ink doll with both fists and frantically shook him. “Why do I have two of you? I don’t  _ want _ two of you! _Why are you all here_?!” He stopped shaking it and stared closely into its yellow and blue eyes. Its head fell back and it smiled at the stars.

Error threw him on the ground. “Stop laughing at me!” he yelled. “I’m not crazy! I'm not! You’re so - UGH!” He scooped the dolls into his arms except for Ink. “I’m taking everyone home for a  _ talk _ , and you’re not invited!” He stuck out his tongues as if that would make the doll laying in the dirt feel sorry and stormed through a portal, “slamming the door” as hard as he could.

____________________________

“I’m not going crazy,” he told himself, sitting on the ground and hugging his knees. “I’m not going crazy...”

“I beg to di-”

“SHUT UP!” all the voices shouted at once in which Error clamped his hands over where his ears would be. A soft voice said to him, “You’re not going crazy, sweetie. You're doing just fine!"

Some of the voices mumbled awkwardly and must have left because they were never heard of for the rest of the conversation.

It took some time for Error to finally calm down after his mini argument with Ink, but once he could call himself calm without his voice shaking and glitching sporadically, he stood up and slowly walked over to the area in his Anti-Void where he tied the dolls together and was keeping them “hostage”. Hands behind his back, he began pacing in a circle around them.

“Alright, you sons uh bitches,” he started. He halted and spun around towards Classic’s doll. “Which of guys is pulling my leg?” The doll said nothing. “Come on, I know it’s one of you!” He began marching away from them. “Don’t lie to me either! I’ll catch you because nothing gets past me.” He paused and raised a brow. “Or was it YOU?!” He dramatically pointed straight up, his jacket sleeve falling to his shoulder and exposing his black arm.

The voices remained quiet. It seems he was alone with the dolls.

“Hm...” He scratched his chin. Now who the  _ fuck _ would want to mess with him? Who would steal his dolls and put them in random places, without him _noticing_? Clearly it was the dolls simply because who would  _ dare _ touch his dolls? “Only I can!” he shouted triumphantly. He turned sharply on his heel. “So that means it’s one of y-” He stopped.

Dream’s doll was gone. An empty space where he should be sat between Classic and Lust.

Error jumped to his own conclusion and gasped dramatically. “So it was  _ you two _ !!” He narrowed his eyes and glared at them in utter disgust. “I fucking knew it.”

He scooped Lust up and waved his arm around. “No you didn’t,” he said, mimicking Lust’s high pitch voice.

“Don’t talk back to me,” he growled as he jammed a finger into the doll’s chest. “And as for-”

He reached for Classic who wasn’t there anymore. And neither was Nightmare's doll.

He squeezed Lust as hard as he could until his fist trembled and his nails dug into the doll’s soft fabric. “I am so sick of  _ everything _ ,” he said through gritted teeth.

________________________

“Ink, I don’t think this is a good idea," Dream said. He watched Ink toss Dream’s own doll in the air and catch it smoothly, the artist sitting on the ground and leaning against a rock, one arm resting against his head. He hugged his knees closer to his chest and looked down the drop and watched the sparkling stars of OuterTale. “I don’t think this is very good for Error. He doesn't seem very happy that you keep taking his dolls."  


“Nah, man, he’ll be fine.” Ink caught the doll and traded it for Classic. Touching the doll's blue clothes and observing the neat stitches sewn into them, he added, “He’s been through worse, he’ll be fine.”

Dream stared at him for a moment before making up his mind and resting his head on his arms. “Sure, okay.”

“Hey, don’t look so glum!” Ink said loudly as he slapped his Dream's back in which he let out a grunt in pain. “It’s all fun and games, remember? Besides, I’m not going to keep these. I’ll give them back. Eventually.”

He sighed. “Okay, I trust you.” He adjusted his head to look at the other who had started lining the dolls in a row in front of him. "I just don't want you to get hurt when Error finds out and gets angry because of it."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	17. Wish Upon A Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is, "A shooting star! Make a wish!"

“A shooting star! Make a wish!”

A blue gloved hand shot up and Error followed it. A white dot streaked across the sky and disappeared as quickly as it came. He stared at the purple sky and the glistening stars looking like spilled glitter, rocks and asteroids floating here and there. In the distance, a red planet hung in the sky. He observed the stars as his eyes flickered over the small details for a few more seconds before looking at Blue who sat next to him, his face lit up with awe.

Giant blue orbs were closely watching him. A small, friendly smile graced his soft, round features, his head resting against the rock behind him and his hands laid neatly on his lap. He reached up to fiddle with the baby blue scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.

He looked away with a glare on his face, adjusting his head against his arms which acted as a pillow between the back of his head and a boulder. “Bullshit. Wishes don’t come true.”

Blue shrugged as he slowly turned away to look back at the glamorous scenery surrounding them. “Yeah, but...it’s fun to pretend they can come true, don’t you think?”

“Hm.”

“Come on, Error! Don’t you want to make a wish?” He paused as his smile grew. “I made a wish.”

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Fine...” He closed his eyes, then opened them after a slight pause. “There, I made a wish. Happy?” He turned and met the other’s steady gaze.

Blue’s smile faltered a little. “You didn’t actually make a wish, did you?”

He sighed as he rolled his head to look the other way. “‘Course not. Do you think I believe in that shit?”

Blue shook his head, smiling again. “No,” he said, moving his arms to rest behind his head, “but I still believe they could come true!”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Error asked with a snort.

“Well...one time, I wished Papy would stop smoking, and for a while, it worked! Isn’t that great!?”

“That’s just a coincidence.”

Blue rolled his eyes playfully. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t believe in it, I get it. I was just thinking...ever since you’ve been taking me to these other worlds-” he gestured out towards the stars “-I’ve had these thoughts that...maybe there really  _ is _ a god there, or some sort of magical being. Maybe wishes  _ can  _ come true!”

Error stared at him for a moment before he cracked a smile. “Pfft! Ha ha, you’re nuts, you know that?” He shifted his weight on the soft dirt and sighed yet again. “Alright, ya got me. I’ll make a wish. For real this time,” he added after receiving a skeptical look.

Blue’s eyes burst into stars. “Yay! You can try it just this once and I promise I’ll _ never _ bother you about it ever again!”

Error took a breath and gently exhaled. “Okay, I wish-”

“NO!”

Error jumped.

Blue paused and relaxed his body. “I mean, you can’t say it out loud or it’ll never come true!” Blue interrupted. His face morphed into a scornful look. “But I  _ forbid _ you from wishing away all the AUs!”

“Damnit!” Error hissed under his breath. He huffed, looking away. “Alright, let me think...”

He rested his head against the rock behind him. What could he wish for? Nothing he wanted was unreachable. What did it matter anyway? It’s only a stupid wish!

He looked up at the beautiful stars winking at him and made a wish.

_________________________

It only took Error one glance at Blue to know something was up. He shut the portal behind the small skeleton, trapping them both in his Anti-Void. He crossed his arms. “What’s behind your back?”

“Huh? Oh! Nothing, it’s...uhhh, surprise!” He gave him a tight smile, but Error only deepened his glare. Blue’s smile dropped and he looked down in shame. “Okay, you got me. SURPRISE! Happy birthday!” He whipped a cake out from behind his back and presented it to Error with a cheesy grin and starry eyes twice as big as they normally were.

Error hesitated, staring down at the cake covered from top to bottom in brown icing. Red icing spelled the words “Happy birthday Error!!!!!” in the center of the cake with a smiley face at the bottom and two unlit candles standing next to it. Slowly and quite uncertainly, he put his hands around the cake, but didn’t pick it up. “You...got me...a cake?”

“It’s a birthday cake, silly,” Blue stated like it was obvious. “Here take it!”

Still a bit shocked and confused, Error took the cake as Blue blabbered on, hands behind his back innocently.

“I decided to make you a triple fudge chocolate cake with chocolate icing and chunks of chocolate inside because you eat chocolate all the time - like,  _ all _ the time. I even made sure to put in your favorite  _ type _ of chocolate: Hershey’s!” His explanation over, he pulled a sharp knife out with a grin. “Let’s cut the cake, shall we?”

“Uh-”

Blue sliced into chocolatey goodness, ignoring anything Error could have said. Honestly though, Error didn’t want to admit it, but the mere thought of that cake made his mouth water and his ecto-tongues form, his fingers twitching anxiously.

He blinked and finally got over his slight shock that anyone remembered his birthday; heck, even  _ he  _ didn’t remember it. “Uh, th-thank you,” he stuttered.

“No problem, friend. I didn’t know how old you were turning, but I figured your birthday is somewhere during the year.” He paused in his cutting. “When is your birthday?”

Error remained speechless.

“Oh,” he said, resuming cutting the cake. “In a place like this, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know. Plates?”

Error snapped out of his head and opened a portal, grabbing exactly two plates and forks and guiding Blue to his bean bag where they could sit comfortably.

Blue accepted the plates without question; at this point he knew exactly where Error got his possessions and didn’t need to ask, nor could he ask, let alone complain. He simply served both of them the pieces of cake he cut with a smile. “Happy birthday!”

Error gladly took his piece and stabbed a piece off with his fork. He popped it in his mouth, chewing. Oh  _ Stars _ , it was delicio-

He stopped chewing when he heard a crunch too loud and too delicate to be a piece of chocolate and his soul slowly started thumping faster and faster as multiple possibilities ran through his head.  


Okay, maybe it wasn’t that good, but it left him licking his plate and fingers and going back for more.

“Hmm...,” he hummed to himself, staring into the distance as he took a bite out of his second serving of cake.

“What?” Blue asked, still on his first piece.

“Nothing,” Error sighed, taking another bite.

Maybe wishes do come true after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	18. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I sit here? The other tables are full."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee shop AU, anyone?

“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

Ink looked up from his sketchbook, his eye lights forming into question marks. Another skeleton stood in front of his table, his big, round golden eyes gazing back at him curiously. A yellow scarf was tied loosely but neatly around his neck and one of his tiny hands held a Starbucks coffee cup close to his chest, the other resting on the back of the chair across from Ink.

“Uh...” Glancing around, Ink was shocked to find that, yes, every single table was...full. When did that happen? He must have been so sucked into his art, it never occurred to him how loud this Starbucks suddenly got. Baristas yelled orders, quickly hurrying to and from the counter, greeting customers and whipping up some delicious treats. Customers milled about, some stood in line that snaked around the tables and others sat in big groups on couches or a table, laughing. Meanwhile, a few others, like Ink, sat with earbuds in their ears and their eyes glued to whatever was sitting in front of them, whether it be a laptop or some papers, another sitting next to them of course.

_ Oh my Stars, I never knew it could get so busy! _ he thought, tapping the eraser on his pencil against his chin. He tore his eyes away from the scene and smiled at the skeleton in front of him. “Sure! Have a seat.”

He smiled back. “Thank you.” He pulled out the chair across from Ink, the chair’s legs scraping against the hard floor and creating more noise within the tiny cafe. He took a small sip of his drink, then set it down, but didn’t let go of it. Eyeing the other for a moment, he finally, albeit somewhat awkwardly, held out his hand and said, “I’m Dream, by the way.”

Ink looked back up from his drawing and took his warm hand. “I’m Ink,” he said with a smile and a firm handshake.

They both let go and Dream turned away, almost curling in on himself. His eyes darted around as he drank his coffee in little sips. Ink watched him for a few minutes as Dream fiddled the ends of his scarf, then took a quick glance around before drinking from his cup again. Occasionally, he would look over his shoulder and glance out the window next to their table.

“Busy night tonight, huh?”

“Huh?” He turned back to Ink. “Oh! Yeah, I never expected there to be so many people here on a Saturday night.”

Ink let out a hearty laugh. “You must not get out often!” After all, it wasn’t like just  _ any _ Starbucks got this busy on a weekend; this particular location was seated in a charming little mall filled with shops, restaurants, a movie theater, music, and other fun and entertaining activities to do. It almost reminded Ink of a carnival, minus the rides. Of course there would be all kinds of people at the mall on a Saturday night!

Dream’s face screwed up into confusion. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s always busy anywhere you go on a Saturday night,” he explained. “People like to get out and party when they’re not working, y’know?”

“Oh...Then yes, you’re right; I don’t get out that often.” He took another sip of his drink.

“So, what are you doing here tonight? Looking for someone?” he asked as he picked up his pencil and resumed drawing.

“I’m waiting for my brother, but it doesn’t look like he’s coming.”

“Hmm...,” the artist hummed, only half-listening.

“He said we could meet up together so we could spend some time together, but he usually shies away from big crowds.” Dream paused to take a drink from his cup. “Since he’s not here to help me, I thought I could go ahead and give this place a try by myself.”

Ink paused in drawing, his pencil frozen on the paper. “Wait, have you never been here before?”

He shook his head.

“Damn, you really don’t get out often!”

Dream’s cheeks flushed a bright yellow and he pouted, crossing his arms. “Hey! It’s not that unusual! My brother gets out less often than I, so there!” He stuck his tongue out.

_ OMG, that’s adorable _ , Ink thought.  _ I hope he doesn’t mind if I... _ He flipped the page in his sketchbook and sketched a quick outline, occasionally peeking up and catching small glimpses of Dream as his pencil flew over the page.

Meanwhile, his cheeks still hot with embarrassment creeping up his spine, Dream turned away again, drinking from his cup and unintentionally glaring at the monsters surrounding them. For the most part, no one noticed his salty look as they were too busy chatting with one another and focused on their own business. He huffed and turned back to Ink, smoothing his face out into a calmer one. “Um, so, what kind of drink did you get?”

“Hm?” he hummed, grinning at his sketchbook as he made small changes to his new drawing, his mind focused on other things rather than the present.

Dream pointed at the untouched cup of coffee sitting in front of Ink. “What did you order?"

“Oh, this?” he asked, picking it up. “I ordered a grande. It’s my absolute favorite!” He put the cup to his teeth and tilted it back, only to get nothing but a single drop of cold coffee. Funny, he didn’t remember finishing it. Oh well! His smile grew as he set his cup down and leaned forward. “So what’d you get? Any particular kind of coffee you like?”

“Uhh, well...I....didn’t get coffee,” he replied hesitantly. “I got hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?!” he exclaimed.” _ Hot chocolate _ ?! You can’t just come to the best coffee place in town and only get  _ hot chocolate _ !”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Mr...Mr...Mr-” he finally gave up after not coming up with a clever name “-Mr. Whatever! I didn’t realize this  _ cafe _ was exclusive to just  _ coffee _ ! If you’re such an  _ expert _ , why don’t  _ you _ show me how it’s done!”

Ink burst out laughing and let out little snorts between every laugh, making a few patrons in their vicinity turn their heads in either annoyance or confusion.

Dream’s entire face lit up with a blush. “What are you laughing at?”

“Ha ha! Nothing! You’re just so cute when you get angry!” He continued laughing.

Dream wanted to die. “Oh Stars!” he cried, burying his face in his hands.

Wiping the tears away from his own warm cheeks, Ink reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, buddy! I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed. Honest!”

Dream parted his fingers to stare at Ink’s grin, his face glowing with a bright rainbow scattered across his cheeks. He had to admit, Ink did seem a bit goofy and genuinely looked like he was just playing around; Dream thought he was somewhat of a nice guy! He removed his hands from his face, hints of blush still dusting his face. “Oh. Ha ha, yeah, okay....”

He raised a brow at the other as they both fell into silence. Dream tipped his cup back and drank the last of his hot chocolate, then took both his and Ink’s empty cups and got up to go throw them away, navigating between the clusters of people standing between tables.

Ink went back to drawing, sketching out Dream’s irritated eyes and his mouth which curved into a frown from memory. He barely brushed his pencil along the cheeks for blush and marked the scarf with a few lines for wrinkles. He scratched his head, trying to remember which way his eye lights were facing. Right or left? Probably his right if he had to guess, facing the window, of course.

The person sitting behind him started talking unusually loudly. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table in an attempt to get away from the noise. A glass shattered a few tables away and he flinched. Something smelled strongly of cinnamon and spice; it made his senses tingle.

He put the tip of his pencil on the paper, but couldn’t make himself draw anymore. He wanted to go somewhere more comfortable and where he could have space to breathe fresh air. Somewhere a bit cooler...and quieter...

“Ink?”

“What?” He looked up from his sketchbook to see Dream sitting across from him, a frown pulling on his soft features.

“I asked you a question,” he said. “Did you hear me?”

“Oh, no, sorry! It’s a little loud in here!” He chuckled.

Oh, yeah, I guess it is.”

Ink took one last glimpse at his sketchbook. He shut it and put his pencil in his pocket, standing up. “Hey, there’s a nice park across the street that’s always pretty quiet. Want to come with me?”

Dream’s frown quickly morphed into a bright smile. “Sure! That sounds nice!”

Stepping outside, the two breathed a sigh of relief and resumed their conversation, their voices carrying high into the cool night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	19. The King of Despair and Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's hiding behind the couch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence and bullying. Read with caution if you're sensitive about this stuff.

“He’s hiding behind the couch.”

Nightmare pulled his knees closer to his chest, so close he thought they might fold right into his rib cage. He wrapped his arms as far around his legs as they could go and buried his face in his knees. The creak of the door opening broke the silence in the empty cottage and several heavy footsteps marched all around the living room, making the worn floorboards creak.

“Are you sure he went this way?”

“Yeah, I saw him go this through the window! I swear!”

“Come out, come out wherever you are, you stupid thing!”

His hands slammed over where his ears would be and he squeezed, thankfully blocking out the villagers’ taunts. There were only about five of them, but, Stars, were they _ brutal _. Bloody cuts littered his exposed hands and his cheek endlessly throbbed in pain. He could already hear the scolds of Dream telling him to “be more careful” and exclaiming, “I honestly have no idea what you’re doing that’s giving you all these injuries!” as he healed his bruise and various cuts.

STUPID! Why did he pick the cottage as a good place to hide? He could have easily run faster than these humans, even though his soul pounded with adrenaline and his legs ached, his knees quivering. It was hopeless! The cottage he hid in contained one or two pieces of furniture in each room, furniture that served useless in a hiding spot. God _ damnit _! WHY DID HE THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA!?

Something wet rolled down his dirty cheek, clearing a path amongst the dirt and cuts on his face. He never wanted to get Dream involved - at all. If only his _stupid brother_ didn’t have the ability to sense his _stupid feelings_! No, he wished it was himself who didn’t have these powers, or - even better - never even existed to begin with! Things would be so much easier on his poor brother.

He wiped the tear from his cheek and glared at the dusty floor from between his legs. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry out for his brother to come save him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to fight! If he was lucky, his brother would appear right beside him, a smile already on his face, that sweet, sweet smile slowly disappearing as he realized the situation Nightmare was in - but he could stand up for him, right? Dream always had his back! But his enemies chased him out into a little cottage deep into the forest where the vines covered every surface and the leaves on the trees towering above him blocked out the sunlight, far from the Tree of Feelings and far from anyone who could help him.

“Be brave!” his brother always told him, his fists up in the air and a giant smile quickly crossing his face. “You can overcome any obstacle if you put your heart to it!!” he’d say.

It usually made him smile too, but being in the actual situation, where the villagers circled him like sharks in an endless ocean...it dawned on him how much he missed his brother and how weak he was to him.

Weakling!

_ I am _ not _ a weakling _, he told himself. So then why...

A hand grabbed his arm and he shrieked as it yanked him away from his hiding place and out into the open. He screamed louder, his voice scratching his throat until it dried up and his breath escaped his chest. He kicked and screamed and curled his fingers into claws, trying to grab or pull at something, but being so _ painfully _ restrained! He twisted his wrists from side to side, up and down, wiggling and pulling, but several strong hands tugged and squeezed and held on to his shirt like steel. _ Too many hands _ , _ TOO MANY HANDS _! LET GO OF ME! his mind yelled as the hands roughly dragged him on the floor, laughter surrounding him as they tossed his small body around like a ragdoll. More hands tried to grab his ankles, but he kicked and thrashed around. Much to his joy, he felt something give beneath his foot, only to be punched in the chest, which forced the wind out of him, his vision quickly vanishing to white.

“STOP IT! STOP IT!” he screamed, struggling and pulling, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes his unfortunate reality and his pain will suddenly cease to exist. His heart said, _ Fight back! Go on, you can do it! You’re stronger than them! _ But his body told him, _ No you’re not. This is it. _

Despite all the thoughts bouncing around in his head, he continued to scream as the villagers mercilessly beat him to the ground.

_______________

“_ Nightmaaaaaaaaare _!”

“Huh?” He blinked, his eyes searching the scene before him until he found his brother sitting next to him, his face twisted into a deep frown and his brows furrowed. The light from the sunset reflected off his features and made his golden eyes shine even brighter than they normally do, illuminating his face, but casting the other half of his face in shadows. Nightmare turned back to the sunset, crossing his arms with a sigh. “What?” he deadpanned.

Dream let out a small pout before concealing it with a frown again. “Your feelings spiked up all of a sudden! I just wanted to know you’re okay.” He hesitated as he pulled at the edge of one of his gloves. “...Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said absentmindedly, poking at a small bruise on his arm Dream had missed when he healed him earlier that day.

His brother stared at him for a moment longer, then cast his steady gaze back to the view below them, the features on his face unchanging. “Hmm, I see,” he said, his voice far away.

_ He’s probably reading your feelings _, a voice echoed in Nightmare’s mind.

He shook his head. “Dream, I’m fine! Honestly, I am!” he said. “I don’t know what’s gotten you so worked up.”

Dream swatted his brother’s hand away from his bruise and gently touched his arm, his magic illuminating his hands with a warm glow. “Look, if it’s about what happened today, I’m not mad at you; I promise.”

Nightmare huffed. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious!” he cried. “There’s nothing wrong with tripping and falling down a hill - I get it.”

Nightmare inwardly cringed hearing his own lie come falling out of his brother’s mouth like it was nothing. He extinguished the feeling and washed his face clean of any emotion.

“For example, I trip and fall all the time!” Dream continued, seemingly oblivious as he put the finishing touches on Nightmare’s injuries. “You know I fall over my own feet every day, and am I ashamed of it? No! It runs in the family. We all make mistakes; it’s okay.”

Nightmare rolled his eyes until they landed on a black apple hanging above his head, several feet above him. It swayed in the cool breeze, the branches creaking under its weight, almost like it could fall and hit him on the head. If it hit him on the head, would it hurt? Will it just become another bruise? Watching it made him unusually dizzy and he blinked as he slowly tilted his head down and gazed at the orange sky and the setting sun.

“There! All done!” Dream pat Nightmare’s arm with glee, then stood up, stretching. He took a few steps to stand directly in front of his brother, hands on his hips. “Anyway, we should think about dinner. I was thinking about tacos, how’s that sound?”

Rubbing his arm, Nightmare glanced up at his brother with a smile. “Sure thing, Dream.”

The guardian giggled with a cheerful, “Okay!” as he turned around and trotted down the hill towards the village, humming a tune Nightmare didn’t recognize. He watched his silhouette until it disappeared between the brick buildings of the village. His smile slowly faded. Then he closed his eyes.

______________

And opened them.

Black dirt stretched as far as the eye could see until it met the red horizon, grey clouds migrating together. Black rotten trees poked up out of the dry dirt like lost souls in an endless desert of doom and despair. A cool breeze blew past him, rustling the dead grass and carrying something almost nostalgic with it.

The smell of rain.

He tilted his head up to stare at the sky, sniffing the air and inhaling the fresh scent of rain, slouching even further against the tree stump, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He closed his eye, imagining what the next hour could possibly look like: him in his massive library, comfortably draped over one of his fancy couches by a huge window, purple curtains partly covering it. He holds a book, his soul invested in it so much that the sound of rain pattering against the window seems far away, yet it comforts him. No matter what story he’s reading - whether it be factual or horrifying - it passes by him peacefully, tucked away in a safe corner of his mind where it can’t hurt him. On the table next to the couch, there’s a cup of tea and crackers. A dim lamp on the table is turned on so he can see in the darkness. Occasionally, a flash of lightning lights up the room and the distant rumble of thunder fills the room.

He sighs, almost smiling to himself.

“Boss,” a gruff voice calls him, shattering his fantasy and the silence like nails on a chalkboard.

He cracks open his eye, his tentacles swaying back and forth threateningly. “_ What _?” he hissed.

Two of his comrades, Killer and Horror, both of them grinning eerily, trudged up the hill where the king sat by himself. “You wanted the Star Sanses, right?” Killer said, his blank eye sockets boring holes into Nightmare’s one good eye.

“Uh, yeah. And...?” he snapped like they were stupid, anger boiling deep inside him and slowly rising to the surface.

“We got ‘em,” Horror interrupted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, gently swinging his axe at his side.

Killer merely gave him the side eye before casting his stare back to Nightmare. “That we did! Locked those bastards up in the basement and, uh...” He shrugged. “Yeah, we won.”

A grin cut across the king’s black, goopy face, his form shifting until he sat upright. “Excellent. Keep them contained. Make sure they _ don’t escape _at all costs. If they do, you will be severely punished.” He eyeballed Killer for a moment.

His subordinate simply saluted him with the confidence of the king himself. “Aye aye, cap’n!” He turned to Horror. “You heard the man. Let’s head back to the castle, a’ight?”

He nodded and the two of them disappeared down the hill. The sound of thunder in the distance echoed through the AU’s core and the cool wind picked up speed until it carried the dead leaves on the ground with ease. He continued grinning evilly, even as he slouched against the stump of the Tree of Feelings again, its bark grey and falling to pieces around him. He chuckled darkly.

What an _ interesting _ turn of events!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	20. The Tormentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you're okay." Warning for mild violence and attempted kidnapping, if you could call it that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I wrote something about Dreamswap, ha ha.

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Error lurched away from the intruder, a scream racing up his throat. A large hand clamped over his mouth and held his head against his white pillow as Blue leaned closer, taking his entire vision. “Shh, my darling, you don’t want to wake everyone up now, do you?”

He pushed his head as far as he could into the pillow, desperately trying to escape the tiny shocks shooting from the hand to his jaw, but the hand continued to follow him, unwilling to let go until he couldn’t lean any farther away. His shaky eyes traveled up the length of the arm to the blue scarf, the gentle yet deceiving smile, and finally to the icy blue eyes that held him down with a cold stare. He smiled down at him, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes the same way a genuine smile would.

A cool breeze brushed by him and he moved his head slightly. The grey curtains hanging around the open window floated in the breeze. He shivered under the cold air flooding his room. The moon lit up his room and outlined Blue’s figure.

Something hot boiled deep within him, clawing its way up his chest, through his feet and down to his toes, his entire body tensing with unchecked rage. Every unpleasant memory flew to his mind and he clenched his fists. Flinging the blanket off of his body, his hands flew to his eye sockets, only for his wrists to be snatched together in a painfully tight grip right below his eyes. His fingers twitched, itching to summon his trusty strings. But nothing came.

Blue tsked him, shaking his head. “Ah, you never learn, do you?” He shifted his body so he held Error’s hands closer to his chest, leaning in slightly. “I’m always going to win, Error.  _ Always _ . Even if you could pull out your fancy strings, I still have the upper hand,” he stated matter-of-factly as blue strings snaked around Error’s wrists, coiling around, tighter and tighter, until he couldn’t move his hands anymore, his fingers squished together uncomfortably. Blue dropped Error’s tied hands with a satisfied smirk. “You and your  _ friends _ think you’re so smart keeping yourselves cooped up in this little shack out in the middle of the woods.” He shook his head again. “I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed in you. I thought you could have done better when you told me I’d never get to see you again. Yet I still found you. Don’t worry though, I like this game of hide and seek!”

He reached across Error and flicked on the lamp on the bedside table. Error squinted in the bright light, but his eyes flew back to Blue again, his face covered in numerous shadows yet still had that angelic glow about him. Blue simply smiled at and rested his head on his hand. “But that’s not why I’m here,” he said, stroking Error’s head, much to Error’s discomfort and disgust. “I came to check on you to make sure you were doing all right. The nightmare I had really spooked me, so I figured I could make sure everything was all right. Aren’t I a good friend?”

His eyes flicked away to his glasses folded neatly on the bedside table, brows furrowed.

Blue frowned and started stroking Error’s cheek. “Anyway, I had a dream about you and your friends. It was quite a lovely dream actually. You all seemed so happy. For a second, I thought to myself-” he tilted his head up in false wonder “‘-Maybe Error doesn’t need me anymore. He seems happy now. That’s what I want for him, isn’t it?’” His eyes darted down to his hostage and he smiled. “I want you to be happy, Error, I really do. I hope you know that.”

His fingers were barely brushing against his bones, but Error flinched at every light touch and every slight movement from the other’s fingers.

He wasn’t even listening to the story. He inwardly cringed at his loving touch. He held his breath and curled his toes, clenching his fists again. His soul beat against his ribcage and wouldn’t calm down, even when Blue pulled his hand away to scratch his face or simply admire him. Nevertheless, he would start touching him again and he squirmed as his brain screamed at him to get away.

Blue took in a deep breath and sighed. “But nothing lasts forever, unfortunately. JR had appeared out of seemingly nowhere and captured you! Dream took you back to his castle and, well...” He dramatically sighed like it pained him to think about his dream. “...Off with your head. Isn’t that sad?” He hung his head and deepened his frown as his eyes turned soft.

He reached up to run his thumb along Error’s cheek again, a soft smile on his face. Seeing Error turn his head and flinch for the hundredth time, he took his hand away and sighed again, looking away. “You know, Error...,” he started, playing with the tips of Error’s fingers. “One day, JR is going to capture you and it will be the last time you ever see the light of day.” They locked eyes, Blue’s own eyes devoid of any playfulness. “They’re going to kill you. I know Dream seems like a big, walking teddy bear, full of love and nothing but kindness. He’s actually out for blood.” The bed squeaked under his weight as he moved closer to Error. “Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Error glared at him.

“Error,” he said, “I want you to come live with me again.” He paused for a second. “Then no one will ever find you and you don’t have to worry where you’re going to hide next or wonder if this will be your last day alive. You can have a happy life without being labeled as a criminal.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head frantically, trying to scream against the hand still pressed against his mouth. Another hand grabbed his shirt with such intensity that Error thought Blue was going to start yelling at him.

“Listen to me,” Blue whispered fiercely, his face now inches from the other. “You. Are going. To die! I want to  _ help you _ . You’re not built for the criminal life. You need someone to protect you! Don’t you want that! Happiness? With me, you could live a normal,  _ happy _ -”

Error had enough. He bit down on his hand.

Blue yanked his hand away, hissing in pain as he cradled it close to his chest.

“ _ Fuck off _ , you  _ psychopath _ !” Error hollered, yanking at the strings around his wrists. “I don’t  _ want to _ -”

Blue slammed his hand over his mouth, all traces of kindness erased from his face. “You’re not  _ listening _ ,” he growled. “I care about you, Error! Don’t you see? It pains me to see you living such a reckless life like this!” His grip around his jaw tightened. “Maybe if you come with me, you’ll finally get to have a peaceful lif-”

BANG!

Error jumped at the sudden noise and Blue reached up to feel his skull, a metal pan landing next to him on the bed. “Ow, what the-”

“Don’t fuck with me!” Nightmare shrieked from the doorway, wielding a pan in one hand. He waved the pan threateningly, preparing to throw another one. “I have the power of god  _ and _ anime on my side!” Nightmare let out an unholy shriek that was sure to wake the dead.

Shook and at a bit of loss for what to do, Blue leaped from the bed, sprinting towards the open window as Nightmare charged at him. He leaped from the window as Nightmare slammed into the wall next to the window, his face red and his hands shaky. He leaned out the window, waving the pan and screaming like a maniac. “Stay away from my friend, you blue walnut! Yeah, you better run, you uncultured fuck! I’m gonna get you one day! Just you wait!” Taking a few steps away from the window, he stared outside, breathing heavily. He slowly turned to Error and croaked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine...”

“You got any scissors in here so we can cut those strings?” he asked, pulling open the nightstand next to the bed. He found a pair of scissors and quickly snipped the strings wrapped around his wrists.

Error sat up, rubbing his wrists and examining the damage.

Nightmare nodded towards his wrists. “You should go take care of those in the bathroom.” He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Y’know...In case you’re hurt or something,” he mumbled.

Error opened his mouth to reply, but a heavy thump in the hallway interrupted him. Immediately following the sound, Cross stumbled into the room, pulling up a pair of shorts and holding a baseball bat. Leaning against the doorway, he gasped, “What did I miss?”

“Nothin’,” Nightmare replied as he picked up the pan on the bed, examining it. “You scared away the bad guy. Good job, Cross.”

Cross narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room, clutching the bat defensively.  


“Nightmare?”

“Hm?” He swiveled around on his heel to face Error.

“Why did you have pans with you?”

“I was in the kitchen,” he said, making his way around Cross towards the hallway.

“Doing what?”

“Watching vines. You should also close that,” he said, gesturing to the open window right before he disappeared into the hallway, his light footsteps echoing down the hall as he thumped down the stairs.

Error crawled off the bed and gingerly shut the window and, after a pause, locked it, throwing the curtains closed and cutting off the moonlight streaming through the window.

“Welp, I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, goodn-”

But Cross had already left, abandoning Error in the cold, dark room. Error threw on a jacket and shuffled down the hallway to go watch vines with Nightmare. The warmth of his bed beckoned to him, but the shadows surrounding the small circle of light around the lamp blackened his entire room and left his eyes darting around, grabbing uselessly at his jacket and his soul racing in his chest.

Maybe it was anxiety, but knowing Blue, the little monster hadn’t left and was just waiting -  _ waiting _ \- waiting patiently for Error to creep back into bed and drop his guard. Besides, it was only an hour before the sun started to come up; why not start his day early?

He waddled out into the dark hallway after turning off the lamp and taking a wary glance around his motionless room. For a while afterward, he didn’t trust Nightmare when he told him to go to bed, but he finally collapsed on the couch at dawn, when the light chased away the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	21. Unkind Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Honestly, I only ask for your help because it's so cute when you try."

“Honestly, I only ask for your help because it’s so cute when you try,” Ink grunted, turning his back on Dream and crossing his arms.

“ _ What _ ?” Dream whipped around to his friend. “W-What do you mean...by that?”

Ink sighed and turned to face him, his mouth pulled down into a small frown. “I mean exactly what I said, sweetheart. I always call you for help, but you can never seem to do it right. You try and you try and, oh my Stars, you try so hard, but you just can’t seem to get it right!” He waved his arms in the air frantically. “I mean, look what you caused!” Stars littered every available spot in the sky, but if Dream ignored the twinkling stars and the purple sky of OuterTale, he could picture the flames, the ruins, the black skies, his brother-

_ Surely Ink wasn’t saying he was...useless, right? _

Dream’s mouth hung open, his mouth forming silent words.

_ It’s so cute when you try. _

His mind pulled up hundreds and hundreds of memories of times when Ink called for him again and again. Most of them were for backup in a battle or healing, but there were a handful of times when he simply needed help finding his shoes or figuring out why the lights in his house weren’t working. But after all that time, he didn’t need his help? Really? Dream refused to believe it to be the truth, but why in all of the Multiverse would Ink tell such a lie as  _ that _ ? He had to be telling the truth, he just  _ had _ to be, even if the truth hurt.

What about just now, when they were fighting his brother? Was he not helpful? No, his brother alone was too powerful for Ink to handle, and he brought his small gang with him. He helped fight, he healed Ink...Was he not useful  _ enough _ ?

His hands found their way to the button holding his scarf around his neck and he pulled on it nervously. “Ink...do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He shrugged. “Why would I lie to you about a thing like that?”

“Ink...” His hands curled into fists and a pout crawled across his face. “That’s so mean!”

“Well, I’m sorry you don’t like the truth!” he spat. “I figured you should know, so then maybe - just  _ maybe _ \- in the future, you won’t accidentally bring your brother to what was  _ supposed _ to be pacifist AU, and end up destroying the ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD!”

“Ink, I’m sorry...I didn’t know-”

“Well, maybe you should tell me when your brother decides to show up! This whole thing could have been avoided if you helped me by doing your frickin’ job!” He froze as fat globs of tears started to stream down Dream’s face, his small body shaking intensely. Small whimpers escaped his mouth as he curled in on himself, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and staring straight ahead at Ink’s chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, I tried...,” Dream started to explain, but his words got cut off by his mumbling and the sobs.

Ink’s entire demeanor immediately shifted. “Aw, sweetheart, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to shout at you,” he took a couple steps forward with open arms. “I just got worked up and-”

“Don’t touch me.”

Ink hesitated, the distance between them cold and empty. He itched to move closer a tinsy bit closer to comfort his poor friend. Not only did he absolutely hate it when Dream got upset, but he desperately wanted to forget that he accidentally let the truth slip out and move on.

Dream took a step back and reached up to wipe the tears in the crook of his arm, though it didn’t help much. In fact, it only smeared the tears across his yellow, puffy face. He took in some deep breaths and blew them out through his mouth slowly. “I’m not mad that you yelled at me,” he sniffed, pausing to wipe his eyes again. “I just...I’m just upset you thought I’m incapable of helping you!”

“What?”

“You said you think it’s cute when I try, but I try  _ so. Hard _ !” His voice cracked and he paused again as fresh tears fell from his eyes. “Do you have any idea how  _ hard _ I work every day? How much energy I put into making sure you and everyone in Multiverse is happy? Do you have any  _ idea _ how much it means to me to see you smile every day? Even if it’s something as simple as bringing you a pencil...I do try, even if you don’t think I’m helpful. I’m sorry I’m not helpful.” He crossed his arms, his shoulders shaking violently as he tore his eyes away and glared off into the distance. “Never mind. I guess I’m just being dumb.”

Ink shook his head, his face a mixture of sadness and pain. “Dream, you are not being dumb-”

“Then what does that make  _ you _ ? Insensitive?”

Ink’s frown deepened into a glower. “I am not insensitive!”

“Oh, get over yourself! You think you’re all high and mighty since everyone seems to like you, but you’re nothing if you can’t look past your own ego and see that other people have feelings!” He slammed his hands against his chest. “ _ I _ have feelings. You can’t just walk all over me just because I’m your friend. That’s not how this works...” He pressed his hands to his face in a futile attempt to hide the tears running down his cheeks and over his quivering mouth.

Neither of them made a sound, except for Dream who continued sobbing quietly. Guilt prodded at his body, but Dream couldn’t find it in himself to care about Ink’s feelings right that second. Everything he held back had come pouring out and nothing could ever take back what he or Ink said. At least the truth was out there.

“Dream, I’m sorry,” Ink said softly. When he said nothing more, he parted his fingers to peer up at his friend.

His eye lights were fixated on the ground, changing shapes and moving ever so slightly over the grass beneath their feet. Though sorrow filled every inch of his expression and his voice, his aura said otherwise.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked down. “You’re not sorry.”

Ink let out a small gasp and glanced up. “Yes, I am!” He clenched his fists. “Stop looking at my feelings; they’re not even real!”

“Yes, they are!” His head whipped around to look at Ink. “It doesn’t matter if they’re real or not, I can still sense them. Besides that’s no excuse for you to be an insensitive jerk to people.” He crossed his arms and gave him a once-over. “Ink, that was a mean thing to say and you shoul know that! If you don’t, then shame on you!”

Ink froze, his eyes glued to Dream’s fiery eyelights. The small skeleton glowered at him from where he stood and despite being taller than him, he felt a little scared. He shifted his grip on his paintbrush, subconsciously using it as a shield.

Dream’s expression softened and he dropped his arms to his side. “Well, I guess we both know the truth about what we think of each other now.” He hugged himself, staring at the ground again.

They stood in silence for a moment. Ink tugged at his scarf, pretending to read his messy notes while sorting through his thoughts and trying to decide what would be better - to leave or to stay? He couldn’t decide. The tension floated between them like a ghost and nothing he did made himself feel comfortable. What do you feel anyway when you get into an argument with your best friend? Guilt? Should he feel guilt? What about anger? Is that an appropriate emotion? Are they going to stay friends? Will Dream even forgive him? He looked up. “Dream?”

His eyes slowly slid up to meet Ink’s colorful eye lights.

“Will you forgive me? For what I said? I promise I won’t be mean, and-and I’ll take your advice seriously when I ask you for help.” He shrugged, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Y’know, forgive and forget?”

His distant gaze slid to the ground. Ink always did it and he always agreed. “I’ll think about it.”  _ No _ .

Ink felt his soul sink in his chest.

Dream turned around and slowly walked to the edge of the cliff, staring out into the stars and the drop below him. “Come back when you don’t feel like being a jerk anymore.” Dream sat down on the soft grass, pulled his knees up to his chest, and laid his head on his arms.

After a few seconds, the small sound of liquid splashing caught his attention and he looked over his shoulder. Ink had left. He was alone. He turned around and huffed, annoyed at Ink for giving up and leaving, but also annoyed at himself for expecting him to stay.

The silence around him filled his head and he closed his eyes, sleep tugging at his brain. It would be uncharacteristic of him to fall asleep in the middle of nowhere, far from home. However, if there was one thing he loved more than making people happy, it was crying himself to sleep. Nothing felt better than waking up after a good cry and feeling a lot better than before. So, letting the tears fall freely from his eyes, he rested his cheek against his arm and closed his eyes, fully intending to fall asleep and try talking to Ink later.

Besides, he just endured an intense battle with his brother and his goons; perhaps after sleeping, everything will turn out all right.  _ Yes _ , he decided,  _ Ink must be tired from the battle. He doesn’t mean the things he said. _

Dream knew deep down that was a lie.

Someone let out a long whistle and his eyes snapped open. “Jeez, way to end a friendship, am I right?”

He barely glanced at the intruder. “Go away, Killer,” he mumbled, burying his face in his arms. “If Nightmare is looking for me, tell him to fuck off; I don’t feel like fighting anymore.”

Killer stopped where he stood, but quickly closed the distance between them and plopped down on the ground next to Dream, swinging his legs over the edge like a little kid. “You know, everywhere I go, all I hear is how great you are and how you’re nothing but a goody two shoes full of sunshine and rainbows!” He tilted his head down to peak at Dream’s face hiding under his arms, smiling eerily. “Yet here you are, crying and swearing at me.” He grunted and sat up. “Some guardian of positivity you are.”

“Killer, go away,” he said, fully intending to be firm, but he sounded weak and his voice cracked. He sighed and lifted his head to rest his chin on his arms. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to fight,” he said, poking the tip of his finger with the knife he held in his hand. He sat back on his other hand and tossed the knife up in the air, catching it. “I’m here ‘cause I’m bored.” He flung the knife in the air again, higher this time.

Dream didn’t say anything. A few tears raced down his cheeks and he sniffled. His dull eye lights stared straight ahead.

“Sooo...are you guys still friends or no?” He used his jacket to wipe a bit of blood off his knife before tossing it in the air again. “‘Cause that seemed rough, even for me.”

Dream’s shoulders rose and fell, yet he remained quiet. He closed his eyes, listening to the whooshing sound as the knife flew in the air and came back down to Killer’s skillful hands. Finally, he said, “It was just a dumb argument. I don’t even know what I was saying...”

“Mm.” He pocketed his knife and sat criss-cross, his aura immediately changing from interested to disinterested. He gave Dream a gentle pat on the back. “Well, if you need anything, know ya got a friend at Nightmare’s castle.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe two if you count your brother.”

Dream turned his head to look at him. Nothing except an empty space sat next to him. A voice passed through his concious and told him it was strange that Killer offered comfort when they were on opposing sides, but he quickly dismissed it. Maybe he will take up that offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, poor Dream


	22. When The Lights Go Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you still awake...?"

“Are you still awake…?”

Nightmare grunted. He flinched under Dream’s gentle touch, tense yet relaxed. Dream ran the edges of his fingers along Nightmare’s arm, a small smile crawling along his cheeks and bringing about a light blush. His eyes tracing every detail of Nightmare’s form, watching as his chest rose and fell with every breath, his usually bright eye light, his strong arms crossed over his chest, a few inches from where his soul should be. Who knew he could love his brother so much?

He sighed. “I love you, Nightmare.”

“Go away, Dream.”

Hearing his own name roll off his brother’s tongue so smoothly made his soul flutter. Feeling his soul thumping heavily in his chest was like nothing he ever experienced before. His tone was set in anger and disgust, yet it unleashed a wave of something pleasant that flooded through Dream’s body and made him melt. He lay a gloved hand on his warm cheek, utterly enamored. “I know you love me too, brother. Don’t deny it.”

His one cyan eye slid away from Dream’s soft look and stared harshly at the purple wall across the room, the bed creaking as he shifted his weight on the bed uncomfortably. He blew out a breath. “To answer your question, yes, I’m still awake, but not for long,” he started uneasily, his voice strained. “What do you want?”

Dream took his time organizing words to form sentences in his head. He absently stroked his arm while he brushed his hand over his brother’s cheek. Some of his goop stuck to his fingers and he paused to lightly pull it off, smoothing it back onto his grumpy face. As much as he loved his brother, he missed the younger version just as much. He missed his smooth, white bones. He missed the smiles that used to caress his face as he turned to the sun and laughed, spreading his arms and spinning in the wind. It always brought the best of Dream out and he too would laugh, chasing his brother through the fields with the butterflies and the dandelions, occasionally stopping to catch their breath, showing each other cool bugs they found in the dirt.

The memory happened centuries ago, yet he could see it in his mind’s eye as clear as day. The memory made his smile grow.

Such a precious boy.

“Is that all you have to say to me? Really?”

Dream blinked and the current Nightmare filled his vision, his head no longer buried in his pillow and instead staring up at Dream who knelt beside him. His cheeks lit up in an embarrassed blush and he giggled. “Oh! Did I say that out loud? No, that’s not what I meant...though you are such a precious little boy!”

Nightmare scowled at the words, wincing as he turned back the other way. “Shut up,” he demanded, even as Dream planted a kiss on his flushed cheeks.

Dream leaned away from him again. “Do you love me brother?” His smile dropped into a frown, his soul sinking as Nightmare’s eyes drooped close. “Brother! Don’t go yet! Please…” He poked Nightmare’s cheek and - much to his relief - his eyes jolted back open again. “Brother…”

He sighed. “Dream…” His words died in the air as he paused to breath, reminding himself to inhale and exhale. He adjusted his hands over his ribs and tried again. “Why...Why did you do it?”

“Why did I...Oh.” His arm paused on Nightmare’s arm as he thought. He glanced at the window at the head of the bed, even though the curtains were draped over it and only darkness could be seen outside. Instead, he stared at the dull blue of Nightmare’s eye light again, the only bright thing in the room beside himself, though its color was slowly draining. “You know I had to,” he started. He looked away again, his face hard with concentration. “You deserve it. I don’t like what you did to this world - or any world really. It...scares me.”

He smirked. “Good. You know I always liked scaring you as a child.”

“That’s no excuse to torment others!”

He chuckled, but a harsh cough interrupted it. He sucked in a shallow breath. “But anyway, you know what the villagers did to me.”

“But-”

“It angered me.” He fell into a painful silence for a moment before he started talking again. “I love you too, dear brother, more than anyone could ever love you. No one can love you as much as I do. Not Ink, not Blue, not any of my useless goons.” He reached a shaky hand up to touch Dream’s cheek and he leaned into the touch, resting his own hand on top of his warm, sticky hand. “Absolutely no one loves you more than I do.”

His yellow eyes sparkled with a smile. Butterflies filled his stomach and he shifted his position, his knees touching Nightmare’s side. Even after all these years, his brother still managed to make his body go weak and his sorrows to melt like snow. “Nightmare…”

“It’s not your fault this happened.” A glare took shape on his face and the hand on his cheek tightened its grip. “It’s my fault, but...this is my role now. My duty. I have to do this.”

Dream shook his head. “No you don’t,” he choked, tears forming in his sockets and his brows coming together. He closed his eyes and a couple of tears raced down his cheek and gathered at Nightmare’s hand. He continued nonetheless. “You don’t have to be the bad guy. I hate seeing you like this and it makes me so sad every time I see what the apples did to you.” He touched one of the motionless tentacles surrounding him. “But that’s in the past now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

A smile sliced across his face and Nightmare let out a cackle, even as pain shot through his body in waves every time he shook with laughter. He stared into Dream’s soft, loving eyes as he laughed, his thoughts bouncing around uncontrollably in his slipping consciousness. His grip on his brother weakened, but Dream continued to hold his hand, even as Nightmare gathered enough strength to mutter with a sneer, “Hypocrite.” His grin widened and he let out a final cry of laughter.

“...That’s not very nice.”

Nightmare wheezed, groaning and tightening the grip on his ribs. “Oh, yeah, sure. ‘Not very nice,’ yes. But it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Dream’s frown deepened.

“Everyone loves you so much, but you know what? Even heroes have their flaws.” He smiled as he weakly stroked Dream’s cheek with his thumb. “Everyone always loved you so much - and they still do - but no one ever looks past that ever-lasting smile and those beautiful eyes of yours. What they don’t see is that you’re a hypocrite, you over-work yourself to the point of exhaustion, you only tell people the truth they want to hear, not what they need to hear. You’re also gullible as shit.”

His fingers twitched and his eye trailed down to Dream’s frail and exposed neck. A hundred thoughts bombarded his head as he imagined all the ways he could kill him right now. Then they would be even. An eye for an eye.

As much as Nightmare wanted to overpower him, to strangle, choke, to suffocate his brother until he cried for help, a fresh stream of tears streaking down his face, he was a man of logic and knew he no longer possessed the strength nor the willpower to do so.

He continued rubbing little circles on Dream’s cheek with his thumb as his eyes flicked back up to the gentle eye lights staring him down. “You have your flaws, Dream, just like everyone else. You’re not as special as you think you are.”

The words struck him in his soul. He grimaced, but quickly erased it from his face and his aura, pushing it deeper and deeper into his core until it dissipated all together. His words stung, but as usual, he hit the nail on the head.

Slowly, a smile placed itself on his face again. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I guess I am a bit of a hypocrite. But I still stand by what I said earlier: you deserve it. I had to do it or else.” He coaxed Nightmare’s hand from his cheek as he spoke, a smudged, bloody handprint remaining on his cheek. “I thought if I could get you to love me more, you could see the light again. Maybe I could persuade you to drop your evil ways.” He picked up the bloody dagger laying on the cold pillow next to Nightmare’s head, standing up and hopping off the bed, landing with a _ thump. _ “I think I always had a tiny crush on you, Nightmare,” he continued nonchalantly with a chirp underlying his tone. “You were always so kind to me, kinder than anyone else I’ve come across, even when nobody reciprocated that kindness towards you.” He walked around to the other side of the bed and stood in front of Nightmare’s hazy line of sight, observing his dying form from afar. “But it’s like you told me once: violence is never the answer. It is the question, and the answer is yes.”

Nightmare couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the joke. He lay still, pressing his hand to the wound on his ribs as blood seeped through the gash, staining his shirt and the dark sheets beneath him.

Dream suddenly laughed and he glanced up. “Remember that time you read that book about telekinesis and you tried to do it yourself? You were laying on the grass for _ hours _ trying to make a flower levitate. That’s what you remind me of right now. I wonder, do you remember what book you were reading…?” He tilted his head and tapped his chin.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, am I embarrassing you?” Dream tilted his head to the side and hid his hands behind his back innocently. “Or are you just mad at me for stabbing you? Sorry, you seem to like it when someone distracts you from the pain.” He held his hands up in a shrug. “I was just trying to distract you. Sorry.”

Nightmare huffed, focusing on breathing and no longer listening to Dream. Stupid Dream! What an idiot he was, thinking he could kill his own brother and all will be fine. The Multiverse rested in his hands and he thought it would be _ fine _ to throw his brother’s life away like it was nothing. Ha, the fucking balance rested in his grimey little hands too. If evil ceased to exist, good would cease to exist too. Perhaps his goons will avenge him and allow evil to live on. Ha...Fuck, dying didn’t feel good. Even something in his wildest dreams couldn’t conjure up the pain resonating through his fragile bones. He swore under his breath.

Dream watched with a smile as Nightmare slowly closed his eye, his breath growing shallower and shallower. He ambled up to the edge of the bed, taking careful steps so as to not destroy the peace floating in the air. He knelt by his side, searching his face for any signs of life and finding nothing but an empty shell of his brother. He reached up with his free hand and stroked Nightmare’s forehead, his eyes flicking over the small details of his face, carefully memorizing it. Upon doing so, a chunk of the slime on his head fell off, turning to dust in his hand. He lay his hand on the goopy hand covering Nightmare’s wound, blood staining the edges of his yellow gloves. He could always wash those later, but for now he wanted to be a part of his brother’s final moments, to touch him and let him know how much he cared about him, how much love he wanted to give to him.

He lay the side of his head against the bed, smiling. “Sweet dreams, dear brother. I love you.” He leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his head. Pulling away he whispered, “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	23. Little Dumb Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!” Featuring dreamswap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, ya’ll. I’m back from the dead.

“Sorry_ isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!” _ the note began. _ This journal is private property of Nightmare. No looking!!!! You have no right to judge me here am _ <strike> _ elliteret _ </strike> _ illiterate _

The words were smeared with black ink and yellow stains sprinkled the thin paper. It frustrated Dream trying to read it through the ink bleeding through the pages, not to mention the unruly handwriting and the sloppy way the letters dipped and curved in unpredictable ways. Reading a child’s handwriting proved to be better than whatever he held in his hands.

Dream let the cover of the journal fall close before examining it. Scratches and cracks littered the leather journal. The pages were wrinkled and folded unevenly in some places, small pieces of dirt crammed between the pages, much to Dream’s utter disappointment. Brown string wrapped around the journal, undone from the messy knot Dream found it in and hanging loose between his fingers.

Dream never knew Nightmare enjoyed writing; in fact, he didn’t think writing would pique Nightmare’s interest. Yet here he sat in his office, holding Nightmare’s dilapidated journal, the signs of being used on a daily basis as clear as day. What did Nightmare even write about?

His mind returned to the empty threats and accusations thrown his way as his well-trained guards caught Nightmare prowling the hallways of the castle. Upon being captured and contained via handcuffs, a guard immediately began feeling Nightmare for any possessions he held and came across the leather journal in his pocket.

“What are you - hey! Hey, that’s _ mine _!” Nightmare shouted as the guard stepped away to examine the journal. “Give that back, you looming meatbag tower!”

He continued to hastily demand for his journal as Dream’s guards promptly dragged him down the hall towards the chambers while the journal was handed over to Dream, who took it to his office for “research purposes”.

The strings attached to the journal held a small black pen devoid of any ink, so Dream tossed it in his trash can half full of crumpled up papers and broken pens. He untied the knot and opened the front cover. A note immediately bombarded him with a warning from Nightmare to not read on. Of course, he didn’t _ want _ to read on - not because he should respect Nightmare’s privacy as a person, but because the unorganized handwriting and endlessly grammatical errors bugged him to no end. However, this journal could possibly open a door into the mind of one of the most wanted criminals in the Multiverse, perhaps even give him insight into what Nightmare planned to do next with his evil little hands and his ignoble friends.

He flipped the page. He read the title at the top of the first page, closed the book, and sighed, burying his face in his hands. Dream was _ not _ in the mood to read a gay fan fiction.

He opened the journal again and started reading the first couple paragraphs at a brisk pace, getting lost amongst the misspellings and grammatical errors littering the wrinkled pages. The constant tangents shifting the topic to a slightly different topic mid paragraph threw him off the most, each new thought altering the course of the story with every sentence.

_ Cross held Nightmare in his arms as they snuggled on the couch and binge watched cheesy super chesy rom-coms. “Nightmare-senpai” Cross the weeb breath sexily. _

_ “What” Nightmare, his handsome gay friend replied _

_ “Wanna make out?” “Hell yeah.” They made out while Ink cried like a baby outside the window, but Error applauded them, sad that he will be forever alone with his gay as hell friends. But the plot thickens as Cross proposes to _ <strike> _ Nighmrr _ </strike> _ Nightmare for the Gay Marriage Of The Century. “Yes” nightmare cried like the cool man he is. _

Dream forced himself to stop reading there.

Leaning on one hand, a deep frown etched onto his face, Dream skimmed the last few sentences before flipping the page and sighing again.

Rubbing his forehead, he wondered why he thought this journal would hand him the secrets to his brother’s mind and aid him in stopping his brother’s useless, silly endeavors. He secretly hoped this journal would put him ten steps ahead of his brother and better prepare him for his future encounters with Nightmare. Of course this fantasy of his is far-fetched; it’s too good to be true.

Instead, what he got was bad fanfiction filled with gay references he hardly understood all written in a two year old’s handwriting. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered chasing after his brother if all he did was pull useless pranks on him and then disappear off Dream’s radar for weeks or sometimes months at a time. In fact, he never once witnessed Nightmare commit a crime with the intent to harm someone, nor has he ever witnessed him go beyond the petty crimes he normally committed which included breaking and entering, vandalism, destruction of public property, existing, and so on.

Dream shook the thought from his head, bending the journal slightly in his hand and boredly watching as the pages flew by, one after the other, occasionally stopping to read a sentence or two before moving on. Reading the worn journal may turn out to be a complete waste of time, but Dream wouldn’t dare let something evidently precious to Nightmare slip by unnoticed; he was almost positive the journal could be useful to him in some way, shape, or form. He just didn’t know for what purpose.

He halted on a page folded inward on the top corner, his eyes flying to the title and pausing on the words.

_ My best friend and brother _.

His eyes narrowed on the words, shifting in his office chair and rolling his shoulders back. The golden glow from his transparent wings highlighted the words, bringing an angelic glow to the page. His attention slid to the first few lines of the page.

_ Dream cast his sword off to the side, it clattering away on the ground. His breaths were heavied and it sounded like he was trying to cool a hot piece of food down in his mouth that’s how loud he was being. But nevertheless, his endless love for his brother was _ <strike>_unstoppable_ _endless??_</strike> _ i dont fucking know it was their _

_ His brother laid on the ground floor, dying a deathful death. “Brother-senpai,” he weezed Dust lay around him, gravestones of in for the fallen enemies slain by Dream’s mighty sword. Dream _ <strike>_walked_ _shambled_ _stumbled_ _ungracefully moved towards_</strike> _ walked towards Nightmare and kneelled. He loved his brother so much. _

Dream stopped to rub his hands over his face and silently contemplated his existence. He never knew his brother could be so bad at english; he almost didn’t want to keep reading. Nevertheless, he picked up the journal and continued with as much of a stone face as he could muster.

_ “My beautiful brother,” the self-proclamed king of the multiverse said with bishounen eyes “I apologize that you were right and I was wrong for trying to kill you and all that buullshit, will you take over Justive Rgns??” To whichc the handsome gay man dieing in his arms replied, “Fuck yeah…………….” _

_ “Langage” he said _

The passage ended there and Dream flipped the page, eyeballing the title at the top suspiciously.

_ Why i think dream is dumb _

_ i may be gay and dumb, but I know one thing: my brother s got issues, but i still love him. even thoug h he tries to kill me every day, i think he still likes me. Maybe. Anyways, reason number one: i think we all know he cant kill me without ultimately killing himself so take that ya smug bastard. >:-) _

Dream’s attention hesitated from moving forward and fixated on the messily written paragraph, reading it again and allowing the words to process. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention away.

_ Reason number two: uh, i don’t actually have another reason. I think Dream is smart and he could really usse that intelligence to do something useful like apologize to his brother _ ** _*cough*_ ** _ for being a huge dick and being dumb and also arresting my friends. He’s smart, he’s just being dumb, much like cross who is <strike>kinda</strike> smart as fuck but dumb as a _ <strike> _ pigeon _ </strike> _ brick. _

Dream took slight offense that he was compared to one of his brother’s lowly comrades and called dumb.

From there, the list was abruptly cut short and transitioned into a story.

_ The yellow skeleton with white bones clutched the apple with an iron grip. “I must do this,” he sneered (??), looking down upon his better half, an evil look in his eye. _

_ “Dream! Don’t do this!!” Nightmare shouted, in agony. “You have so much to live for!!!!” _

_ “Shut up, you absolute dweeb,” Dream ordered, even though he has no right to order Nightmare around, his eyes golden sunflower golden sun yellow eyes glinted with evil and greed. “This isn’t you’re place to decide.” He brought the shiny, yellow apple to his teeth. “This must be done….for the better of the _ _ people _ _ universe!!” _

_ Dream took a crunchy bite so crumchy it sounded munchy and crunchy. Good crumchous. Its a good crumch _

_ Nightmare held his breathes, waiting for the inevitable to happen. His mouth fell open, trying to scream at his brother to stop, but failing to make a god damn sound. Time slowed down. _ <strike> _ But it was still moving so slowly………………. _ </strike> _ But it happened too fast to think it happened to fast to think of action to do _

Despite the awful spelling, punctuation, grammar, and the overall structure of it all, Dream sat at the edge of his seat, his thoughts racing and asking for more, despite the pieces falling into place, already confirming what he already knew will happen.

_ But instead of growing giant golden wings and growing 6 thousand feet tall like some _ <strike>_sootr_ _srot_ _sro_</strike> _ sort of unreasonable beanstalk, the ground shook to the core, yellow and black apples falling to the ground and smashing open and the tree shook violently and the buildings of the village shook with fear (???) and people shreiked. A hole opened in the ground between Dream and Nightmare, swallowing dirt and apples as it grew _ <strike> _ Dream watched with wide eyes _ </strike> _ Dream and Nightmare BOTH watched with eyes as big as _ <strike>_sausages_ _sauces_</strike> _ saucers. A giant hand came out of the ground and slapped Dream in the face before disappearing in to the ground. again. “Dream” Nightmare said as he walked to his brother, <strike>soberly</strike>, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You dummy, the apples are fake I rigged them with CGI special affects” “What?” “Yeah, don’t you know?” He put his other hand on his other shoulder (Dream’s other shoulder). “You don’t need to be super buff with those apples becuse you already created a cult, look around.” He gestureds at the confused and confuse villagers. “They practically worship you.” _

_ Dream looked at his empty hands. “Oh my gosh” he said with a said look in his eyes. _

_ The End _

  
Dream dropped the journal on his desk, letting out a sigh and leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. If Blue never existed, he would say the story he just read is the most emotional rollercoaster he had ever been on. He let his arms fall on the leather armrests on his chair and stared at the ceiling several feet above him. Sunlight highlighted the patterns delicately painted on the ceiling of his office and brought attention to the dust floating through the air. The warm air circulating through the air hugged him in a way that reminded him of home - or the feeling a home should have: warmth, sunny days, clear heads relieved of stress and the welcoming smell of baked goods.

He opened his eyes and stood up, crossing the small distance between his desk and the open window revealing the small kingdom below his room nestled several stories above the ground leading up to the grandiose castle. Hands behind his back, he took in the view before him, observing the children running through the streets and the bakery hosting the delicious smell of pie he was no doubt smelling. His steady gaze wandered from street to street, house to house, tower to tower, until his eyes landed on the east wing where the cells lay. No doubt resided in his mind Nightmare already hatched a plan to free himself from his chamber.

He turned to stare at the journal still sitting on his desk, sunlight pouring over the front cover as sunbeams grazed over it. A thought materialized in his mind and he tilted his head in thought, eyes darting from the journal to the pens on his desk. He glanced out the window.

Silence hung among the clouds in the sky and held him in a quiet trance. With his final decision in mind, he spun around on his heel and sat down at his desk again.

______________________

Nightmare hummed the mission impossible theme song as he crept through the halls, quickly glancing both ways before darting around a corner or passing through an intersecting hallway. He dramatically ducked behind a plotted plant, spying an open door across the hallway leading to Dream’s office. Ignoring the voice inside him telling him to bail, he glanced both ways before darting into the room and pulling the door shut.

He scanned the room. Nothing. No longer crouching, he poked between the books on Dream’s bookshelf and the decorations neatly arranged amongst the books stacked together. He pushed them aside, careful not to break anything, standing on his toes and examining every nook and cranny in search of his missing journal.

With a huff, he fell back on his heels and dashed to Dream’s ridiculously large desk. He lifted up stacks of paper and threw open drawers, only pausing to listen to the footsteps passing by outside the double doors of the office before resuming his frantic search.

At last, he pulled open a drawer and found his journal on top of the various pens found within, its strings tied neatly in a bow. He picked it up and tossed it on the desk, crossing his arms.

Something seemed off. With no pen to be held to the side of the journal, the excess string made the bow look slightly bigger and prettier than it normally looked. He narrowed his eyes at it, thinking through everything Dream could have done to his journal. He cautiously picked it up and flipped open the front cover before casually flipping through the pages. A deep frown placed itself on his face as he inspected the red markings throughout the pages.

Did...did Dream seriously go through and edit his fan fiction? Of all the things he has witnessed his brother do, taking the time to read and edit his poorly put together stories made it his list of the top five weirdest shit Nightmare has ever seen. He appreciated Dream taking the time to look at it and give him honest feedback, he did _ not _ appreciate the blatant fact that he ignored Nightmare’s note at the beginning.

Even more, he hated the small adjustments and notes he left in his fanfiction with his stupid rose red pen; his corrections ranged from things such as “_ wrong vocabulary word _ ” to things like “ _ 0w0 isn’t a word _ ”. _ Stupid Dream and his stupid, beautiful handwriting _, Nightmare thought harshly as bittersweet love for his brother fluttered through his soul.

He flipped through the last couple of pages before stopping to read the small blurb beneath the story about the apple incident:

_   
Story is unrealistic and vague. Needs revision. Grammar and spelling is a mess, not to mention the bizarre paragraph structure. Honestly, the gay story between you and Cross was better and at least has a solid plot. Interesting story, though. _

_ If you are as smart as I hope you are, you will turn yourself back in to be arrested immediately. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Dream Von Licht _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	24. In The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I told you I would make you suffer."

“I told you I would make you suffer.”

Bark poked Dream’s torn clothes as he lay limp and useless at the base of a tree. His mind swam in and out of the present moment and his breathing turned from ragged, sharp intakes of breath to shallow inhales, the air slipping through his slack jaw. Pain pulsed from cracks in his skull and his ribs, his limbs sore and bruised, dragging him back down to the ground and forcing him to focus on what hurts instead of going to sleep. Beyond his hazy eyesight, he spotted his brother’s silhouette.

Nightmare tilted his head, eyeing Dream’s crumbled figure with a scowl. “You didn’t think this would happen, did you? You didn’t think I would beat you until you were nothing but  _ dust _ in the dirt. Isn’t that right?”

No response.

“You’re  _ pathetic _ .”

Dream’s dull but still glowing eye lights jolted on, his head lifting up to stare into the other’s icy blue eye. A frown took its place on his mouth and his eyes softened into sorrow. Still exhausted from the battle as his beaten soul struggled to maintain life, he managed to whisper, “Brother, what are you...?”

“Don’t call me that,” Nightmare snapped.

He shifted his head to gaze at Nightmare with a disheartening smile. “I guess this is what it has come to.” He inhaled slowly, allowing his eyes to close before reopening them again. “It’s sad to think that my own brother killed me, isn’t it?”

Nightmare inspected him. His yellow, dusty hands were deprived of his bow, the battered weapon kicked several yards away, snapped into several pieces. In front of him, Dream’s legs were splayed out, tears cutting through the fabric of his pants and exposing his pearly white bones, cracks running up and down his legs like snakes, slowly sucking his life away with every ounce of marrow that leaked through the various cuts and jagged edges. Despite the insufferable amount of injuries littering his body, not a scratch lay on Nightmare. In fact, Nightmare managed to keep himself clean the entire battle save for his jacket which hung on the edge of his shoulder precariously and his tentacles hanging high in the air, twitching agitatedly.

He took a slow step forward, chuckling. “Yes, Dream, I suppose it is.” He smirked. “You’re not as bright as you seem - look at you. You have been thrown and beaten before me like a ragdoll. Honestly, what did you think you could do here?” Stop me?” He closed the small space between them, kneeling down and tilting his brother’s chin up. “This is what it feels like to suffer, Dream.”

His eye lights flickered over the other’s cloudy yellow eye lights. Dream’s eyes weren’t focused on him, instead looking somewhere just passed his head, off into the distance where the snowy field lay behind Nightmare, the majority of the snow disturbed from their intense battle. Staring into Dream’s eyes, he watched as his eye lights slowly fell closed.. His breathing grew quieter. He slowly dropped Dream’s chin, watching as his head lolled to the side.

He observed his dying form for another silent minute before standing up, taking a few steps back. Dream didn’t move. He didn’t acknowledge the lack of Nightmare’s intimidating presence next to him. His fingers twitched occasionally, but he showed no signs of life.

Nightmare swiftly turned away and left, disappearing into the darkness beyond the forest’s edge.

___________________________

He stared at the body, a colorful speck against the dull backdrop. He squinted, trying to determine whether Dream was awake or not. Of course, he was  _ alive _ because his body hasn’t dusted yet, but if his consciousness remained intact was unclear.

Almost uncertaintly, wary Nightmare may be lurking nearby, waiting amongst the trees to finish his brother off, Cross stepped out from behind a tree, glancing both ways for any intruders. Silence hung in the air between him and Dream. A little more confident in his surroundings and his ability to complete his self-assigned task, he fully emerged from the safety of the forest and approached the dying skeleton.

He halted and squatted next to Dream, his eye lights giving Dream’s body a once-over and taking in the numerous injuries covering his body. Dry blood stained his white bones and his colorful clothes. Deep cracks covered every bone Cross looked at, leaving behind sharp edges and pools of marrow pouring out.

He glanced down and stared at the dead hand lying at his feet. He hesitated, staring at the curled fingers and the splotches of red stains around the wrist. Ever so slowly, he gently curled his cold fingers around Dream’s small and bruised fingers.

He jumped when the fingers curled around his and squeezed lightly. He carefully but hastily pried his fingers out of Dream’s grasp, his soul pounding at the sudden contact. He looked back up at Dream’s soft face, his eyes closed and his jaw slightly ajar. He pressed his knuckles to Dream’s cold cheeks, then his bloody forehead. He emitted no response from Dream and he removed his hand once again.

Sitting up slightly, his head swiveled around as he quickly took in the area.

Doing something like this could definitely get him in trouble with Nightmare; at worse, he could be kicked off the team and permanently stuck on Nightmare’s bad side, as if he wasn’t already leaning towards Nightmare’s bad side. After all, he made it crystal clear he wanted his brother dead, making his point by leaving Dream out in the snow to bleed to death.

As much as he thought it was a good idea to leave him, another part of his brain said otherwise. Perhaps Nightmare didn’t see Dream for who he was, but Cross saw a kind soul with a desire to please others and make them happy. He had never seen such a soul like his before and it mesmerized him to no end. He saw all the friends he made as well as the enemies, choosing to be kind to them instead of acting out in a fit of violence. Nevertheless, he had a fighter inside of him, and Cross didn’t want to let it die.

Acting out of impulse, he folded Dream’s tattered arms and folded them neatly on his torso, then scooped up his small frame, standing up with another quick glance around the area. Shifting the sleeping skeleton in his arms, he began to walk, his mind drifting. Perhaps, once Dream woke up, bandages wrapped around his arms and legs, maybe they could be a little less like enemies and a little more like...friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
